


Early Eclipse

by AconitumNapellus



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-12
Updated: 2014-06-12
Packaged: 2018-02-04 10:08:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 94,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1775281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AconitumNapellus/pseuds/AconitumNapellus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spock is blinded in an explosion on a new Starfleet star cruiser, and must learn to readjust to his new world while passing through trials like Klingons, abduction by an alien life form, and a holiday that goes wrong.</p><p>This is pretty much the first fan fiction I ever wrote, when I was about 15, and is the earliest version of my Eclipse story, where Spock is blinded. It gets a little Spock/Chapel-y nearer the end but not intensely so. I don't believe I've ever uploaded it anywhere before. I'm not entirely happy with the characterisation of Spock - he gets a bit too emotional - but I do like bits of this story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Part 1

The Loss

1

 

A figure was materialising on the  _Enterprise_ ’s circular transporter platform as Captain James T. Kirk abruptly entered the room, looking as if he had been running. Dr Leonard McCoy filed briskly in a second later, still pulling his tight-collared dress tunic into place, muttering something about tailors and guillotines.

‘Bones, shut up,’ Kirk said briefly out of the side of his mouth, just a second before the materialisation completed.

Kirk composed himself quickly while Commodore Mendez stepped down to the floor, then nodded courteously, eyeing the official, overdone uniform the man was wearing. It was formal all the way, then.

‘I’m sorry, sir,’ Kirk began apologetically, ‘but we didn’t know you were coming until the last moment.’

‘That’s the way surprise inspections tend to come.’ Mendez smiled warmly, offering his hand to the captain to try to dispel the stiff atmosphere. His gaze turned to McCoy. ‘And you are the ship’s doctor?’

‘Oh no, sir,’ he said, glancing at Lieutenant-Commander Montgomery Scott, who stood proudly behind the transporter panels. ‘Mr Scott is the _ship’s_ doctor. I only look after the crew.’

Kirk shot a startled glance at him. The doctor’s tone had come close to insubordination. McCoy had been doing that a lot lately, almost as if he didn’t care that it could get him into trouble. Jim was relieved to see a faint smile playing around the commodore’s lips.

‘I’m sorry, Jim. I’m just tired,’ McCoy said with an apologetic shrug.

‘I know, Bones,’ Kirk said softly. He was tired too. ‘I take it you have heard about Commander Spock?’ he asked Mendez quietly.

‘Yes,’ he said awkwardly. ‘That was another reason for my coming. Is he still in your sickbay?’

‘Yes – he will be for some time.’

‘I hope he’s coming to terms with it.’

Kirk shrugged. ‘He’s still very shocked.’

‘I’ve heard Vulcans find it very difficult. It must be hard for him,’ Mendez said kindly. ‘It was a very courageous act.’

‘Yes, sir. It was.’ Kirk wondered grimly how many people’s lives had been shattered, or ended, by very courageous acts. He could already name dozens who had been under his command.

The commodore snapped back into his brisk, businesslike manner, looking across at the door. ‘But we can discuss your first officer later. I have a ship to inspect.’

‘I think you’ll find everything in order, sir,’ Kirk said confidently, masking the unreasonable feeling of anger that had arisen when the commodore brushed the subject of his friend aside so abruptly. Maybe he was being over-protective, but he didn’t want anyone speaking of Spock with anything but respect at the moment.

‘I’m sure I will, knowing you,’ Mendez cut into his thoughts, ‘with the pride you have in this ship. Shall we go?’

‘Of course. Bones?’ he asked, turning to McCoy.

‘I’d like to take a rain-check, if I may, Captain,’ McCoy said quietly. ‘I’d like to get back to sickbay. I have to see to Spock’s dressings.’

Kirk dismissed him with a nod and McCoy stepped through the automatic door as it swooshed open. Kirk’s face clouded for a moment as he remembered McCoy bringing Spock back to the ship through this transporter only two weeks ago.

 

Spock had been led from the transporter in that same pale faced, shocked, almost catatonic state that Kirk had seen more than a year ago in the Deneva incident. As if he were on automatic pilot. McCoy gripped his arm tightly with almost the same expression on his face. Kirk stepped forward quickly to take the other arm, as much to comfort himself as to comfort Spock.

‘What happened, Bones?’

‘He was with Ensign Jordan in the phaser room when it exploded.’

‘The coolant gas?’ Kirk looked up at Spock’s face, and felt as if he had been hit in the stomach with a cannonball.

McCoy nodded. ‘He just couldn’t get his eyes closed in time. Spock’s blind, Jim.’

Kirk stared at the blackness of Spock’s pupils. Not the blackness of a deep hole, a window to the world. The blackness of an opaque layer of tar coloured cells, slightly tinged with pink, shutting out all light. The brown irises were still clear, like dark, chestnut coloured pools. The whites were still clean. From a few feet away the difference could hardly be seen, but close up – those pupils. Horrible was the only word he could think of.

‘And Jordan?’

‘Dead,’ Spock said woodenly. His face had hardly moved with the word, then it was back to its vacant white mask.

The door to the transporter room opened and Nurse Chapel rushed through with a gurney, catching her breath at the sight of the Vulcan. For the first time, Kirk saw his torn and burnt clothes, the blood of many small gashes. Terrible burns on his arms and hands. The face, he realised, was burnt too, but he could still see the whiteness of it, and the slow transition to a horrible grey-green.

‘He’s going to faint, Bones.’

They caught the limp body as it collapsed, and lifted it onto the waiting stretcher.

‘Will you take command, Scotty?’ Kirk asked the red-shirted officer behind the transporter. ‘I want to stay with Spock.’

‘Aye, sir.’ The wise face held almost the same expression of stunned sympathy that Kirk’s did. ‘When they ask about Mr Spock?’

‘Tell them he’s injured and in sickbay. That’s all.’

Scott nodded respectfully and flicked open an intercom channel to call for a relief to take over transporter duty.

 

It had been a safe enough mission on the new model star cruiser  _Italia_ . A phaser malfunction that needed the Vulcan’s great skill for examining, then providing a completely logical solution that no one else had thought of. But the malfunction had released coolant gas actually into the phaser control’s inner workings, and as Spock and the youthful Ensign Jordan had prised open the inspection cover, the gas had hit the air and exploded in a burst of pink and white heat and light, smashing both the men back against the opposite wall with a force that buckled the panels.

Spock had acted in the only logical way possible. He pushed away the pain and groped desperately for the human that had been with him and tried with all of his strength to pull him from under a supporting beam that had smashed to the floor. The man struggled hard to press up against the weight, to help Spock wrench him free. Spock felt warm human blood spreading out over his hands, making them slip as he tried to grip under Jordan’s shoulders. Too much blood, flowing out too fast.

Someone was screaming – he recognised his own voice. Jordan didn’t scream now. He knew the body he touched wasn’t breathing any more, and it was illogical to continue the rescue attempt, but no logic would make him leave the young ensign to be burned into an anonymous black corpse. He owed him that much.

He gave a final tug, and lurched backward, almost falling as the body jerked free. Then he cradled it in his arms to shield it from the flames, and staggered through the door to collapse on the ground, gasping with pain and shock. He pawed at his eyes futilely, trying to relieve some of the agonising pain; to tear away whatever it was that hurt them so much. There were hands touching him, trying to pry his arms from the dead body, but his muscles were locked still. Then a hypo pressed to his arm and hissed, and everything dissolved into a warm and comforting sleep.

He woke again in a sobbing panic, to feel strong arms wrapping around his body. Not Kirk. There was a voice.

‘Spock, it’s all right. It’s all right.’

He recognised it as McCoy, and realised with odd detached anger that he couldn’t stop crying like a terrified child. His sobs turned to ones of relief, and he clutched back at the comforting warmth, found himself crying, ‘Bones, Bones.’ A name he’d never called the doctor in his life.

‘It’s all right. It was a nightmare,’ the soothing voice came again, rocking him back and forwards.

After what seemed like a long time, he managed to stop sobbing, and he tried to pull together in his mind what had happened to do this to him, to block away the terrible feelings – emotions – he couldn’t understand. He knew it wasn’t just a nightmare. There was pain, tearing through the numbing painkillers. McCoy’s hand cupped behind his head and gently pulled it into the crook of his neck and shoulder, stroking the dark hair uncertainly. Spock let him do it. Something was terribly wrong, but he couldn’t work out what.

‘Come on,’ the doctor murmured. ‘It’s okay now, Spock.’

Spock forced himself to calm, and found he could speak, though his face was in agony. ‘I am sorry,’ was the first thing he said. His cheeks burned with each word.

‘It doesn’t matter, Spock,’ McCoy said gently, letting him lie back down. Spock wondered briefly why he was being so nice. ‘It’s quite natural to feel emotional.’

‘What...?’

‘You were in an accident,’ McCoy said, still in that soft voice as if he was speaking to a child. Spock suddenly remembered the blast with a jolt, hitting his face, his body.

‘Where am I?’

‘Still on the _Italia_. We’re in one of the officer’s quarters. You’ve been unconscious for hours. But we’ve got the transporter back on line now. I can take you back to the _Enterprise_.’

‘Jim will be there?’ He tried to steady the tone of anxiousness in his voice, finding an excuse for the question. ‘I – must inform him of the death of the ensign.’

McCoy stared at him for a moment, then realised Spock was trying hard to hold back the emotion at least until he was on his own ship, in the privacy of the  _Enterprise_ sickbay.

‘He’ll be there.’

‘Why is it dark? Is the power – ’

Spock broke off abruptly as something dawned that the last emotional, frantic minutes had blocked from his thoughts. The terrible pain in his eyes was suddenly explained. A coldness opened up in his body, and he suddenly felt sick with vertigo, as if he were hanging over an endless hole.

‘I can’t see.’

McCoy stared at the floor a second. ‘The gas hit you straight in the eyes – Oh God, Spock,’ he choked off. He wanted to say something to make it better, but there were no words.

‘I have been blind before,’ Spock said quietly.

‘Damn it, Spock,’ he snapped. ‘There’s no need for you to try and comfort me.’ He immediately regretted saying that. ‘Spock, I’m sorry,’ he said sincerely.

The Vulcan began to try to sit up. ‘Doctor, I am awake now – we can go to the transporter room.’

McCoy’s hands gently lowered him back down before he fell. ‘You’re in no fit state to be walking.’

Spock realised it was true. His whole upper body burnt with searing pain, his legs hardly better, his inside was racked with nausea and his head was tightened in a band of aching pain.

‘The explosion caught your top half,’ McCoy said. ‘Your legs are only fire burns.’ Only seemed a trivial word, but compared to the gas burns on his torso, they did seem trivial. ‘I’ve helped your broken bones start to knit, but you still have severe bruising and lacerations, and concussion. I know you’re in pain, and I know your eyes must hurt like hell, but I’ve given you all the painkiller I have. The damn idiots had no reserve medical kits up here yet.’

‘My eyes – when the burns heal – ’ he began.

McCoy swallowed on a feeling of dread. He hadn’t wanted to say this aloud. ‘Spock, it’s not the burns,’ he said. ‘It’s a reaction with the gas. It won’t heal.’

Spock drew a deep breath, trying not to let the shock through. ‘Then it is permanent.’

‘Yes,’ the doctor mumbled. He couldn’t add the terrible sting of it is now – if only he had had the equipment, instead of having to stand and watch while the cells in Spock’s eyes became more and more hardened, eventually resistant to any kind of medicine...

‘What – has happened to the body?’ Spock asked numbly, wondering vaguely whether he was in a two berth room.

‘It – he’s – still here, in another room, Spock. I want to get you beamed back first.’

‘Do they know?’

‘They know about the explosion. They haven’t been given details. They’ll know soon enough. Are you ready to go?’

Without waiting for a stretcher he lifted Spock in his arms, cradling him in the same way that Spock had cradled Ensign Jordan. For once the Vulcan seemed glad of the physical contact, and didn’t resist the doctor. But he tensed when he heard the transporter room door open.

‘I’d like to be standing, Doctor,’ he said gravely.

‘I understand.’

He set Spock down on one of the round transporter pads, holding him upright. Spock’s mouth opened slowly to order;

‘Energise.’

Then McCoy saw Kirk’s face when they appeared in the identical  _Enterprise_ room. The look of stunned horror. The brief exchange of words, then Spock collapsing into a lifeless heap, being lifted onto a gurney, wheeled to sickbay and laid tenderly in a bed.

‘Nurse Chapel. Nurse Chapel!’ he snapped, to bring her attention from the Vulcan’s face. He was shocked to see her face creased and mouth wobbling, drenched in tears.

‘Christine,’ he said more gently. ‘You can go if you like.’

She shook her head. It took a great effort to open her eyes and take the deep breath to calm herself. He knew she was feeling the same stabbing, choking pain in her throat and stomach that both he and Jim did.

‘I can stay,’ she told him, her eyes drifting again to the pale, ill face. No! She shook herself. Don’t let yourself keep looking at it. ‘Burn sprays, sir?’

‘No. I gave him some first aid on the _Italia_ , but their sickbay was completely empty, no stocks or equipment – not even beds. That should be the first damn place to be kitted out,’ he muttered angrily. ‘Maybe if we’d been able to treat his eyes straight away ... So much for brilliant new ship designs,’ he said bitterly.

Chapel tried to turn an escaping sob into a cough, and didn’t quite succeed. McCoy looked up at her face again and his warm blue eyes reached into hers. He stopped his work briefly to touch her shoulder.

‘He’ll be all right. You know Spock. He never lets anything keep him in here for too long. Now, his clothes are still burnt onto him – we couldn’t remove them before without risking permanent scarring. Why don’t you go get him some clean clothes and help me get this uniform off him while he’s still unconscious?’

‘Yes, sir. Was he in a trance, sir, or does he know?’

‘He knows.’

 

Spock began to stir, his head tossing on the pillow, another nightmare forming in his mind from fragmented memories. He was in the phaser room again, but it was Jim now who was trapped under a beam, dying, and he couldn’t get him free. There was red blood washing over the walls, the floor – the whole room was red with blood and fire. He could see, but he couldn’t see, and his blood covered hands wouldn’t stop slipping off the beam...

‘Jim!’ he cried out loud. Immediately he felt his captain’s hand on his arm, and it was easier to clamp down on the fear. But he still couldn’t see. _It’s not a dream._ He kept repeating those words in his head until they blended into a meaningless mantra.

‘It’s all right,’ Jim said. Jim’s voice without a face or a body... Jim’s hand stroked his forehead gently, then came back to his arm.

Spock forced himself straight away to compose his face and try to control the pain, but nothing seemed to control the raging emotion inside. He knew it wasn’t all right. Nothing was right. Nothing was real except Jim trying to comfort him when logic should be making everything cool and clear, and the huge gaping void in his body, the terrible emptiness. He felt for Kirk’s firm hand and clung to it tightly. His hand hurt as if he was holding it over a fire, but his whole body felt like that anyway. The room around him was calm and quiet, but he felt as if he was lying in the path of a blizzard that wouldn’t stop screaming in his ears and battering his body. The smell of antiseptic and medicine told him he was lying in sickbay, but he opened his eyes, and nothing happened. It was odd...

‘It’s all right, Spock,’ Kirk said again. ‘You’re on the _Enterprise_ now.’

‘I know,’ he said faintly. ‘Jim, would you convey my condolences to Ensign Jordan’s family?’

Kirk nodded. God, how he hated conveying condolences, telling people parsecs away that someone they loved had died. He suddenly realised that Spock couldn’t have seen his nod, and said, ‘Yes, Spock. I will.’

‘He died most bravely.’

‘And you were very brave.’

‘I didn’t save him,’ he said blankly.

‘You did all you could.’

‘Not enough.’

Simple words, but the human was dead. Such a bright young man, on his first space assignment. Almost annoyingly emotional, but so full of life that his heart warmed to him instantly. Not that he would let it show. It didn’t matter now. The ensign was dead. He let his mind detach from the people around him into another consciousness. Conscious, but not aware.

‘Jim.’ Kirk felt a tug at his sleeve. He detached his fingers from Spock’s, and McCoy led him across the room. ‘He’s in shock still.’ He spoke quietly, to avoid the Vulcan hearing. ‘He’s trying hard to be strong, but he’s badly upset and confused. He’s lost blood, breathed in that disgusting gas. Stuff should be banned. Everyone knows it’s a damn poison. It’s left him so weak. He’s too tired to cope.’

‘He’s not controlling the pain, is he?’

‘Only to some extent. He’s in terrible pain even through the painkillers. He hasn’t managed a healing trance, either. I think he’s – too traumatised in his mind to sink into himself that far.’

‘Can’t you put him to sleep, Bones?’

McCoy glanced at the Vulcan. He’d already toyed with the idea of keeping him unconscious for as long as possible, to spare him the terrible emotion and pain. But he shook his head.

‘He’d only have to face it when he wakes up. He’s already drugged-up with all the painkiller I can give him. That’ll help him sleep, but if anything knocks him out it’ll be pure pain and exhaustion.’

‘It’s like Deneva all over again.’

‘It’s not just the blindness this time. He’s badly burned, in a lot of pain, very shaken up – and a man died. God, Jim, the boy was just eighteen.’

‘How bad are Spock’s injuries? How long’s he going to be in sickbay?’

‘Without a healing trance, a long time – but he won’t die,’ McCoy promised. ‘He’s badly burned down the front of his body. He had a lot of bones broken by the force of the blast, and took a bad knock to the back of the skull where he hit the wall. I’ve fixed the bones, but he’ll still be very sore and fragile. Smoke inhalation, of course, some internal bruising...’

‘How soon will he see again?’ Kirk asked, still letting a flicker of hope burn inside him.

‘Jim...’ McCoy said very softly. His face answered the question for him.

Kirk wiped a hand across his face. ‘Oh, God, Bones...’

‘I know.’

‘There’ll have to be an investigation – just to work out compensation if nothing else.’

‘Don’t talk to him about that yet. He’s not ready to go through it all again, on trial. It’ll seem like a trial to him. He’s far too unstable for that.’

‘If the officials order it?’

‘Jim, he can’t go through that until he’s a lot better. That’s a medical order. He needs a friend, not a captain, at least until the shock’s worn off... God, as soon as that stuff hit his eyes, the cells started growing. Covered the pupils in a split second. He hasn’t even got light and shade to help him. I just can’t do anything.’ He sighed tiredly. ‘At least he’s got strong Vulcan senses to help him.’

Kirk swallowed a football-sized lump in his throat. ‘And he will recover fully?’ He was glad his voice was steady.

‘Physically?’ McCoy nodded. ‘Everything except his eyes will heal. Mentally, I don’t know yet. We’ll just all have to support him the best we can.’

A horrible cold feeling suddenly ran through Kirk’s blood. ‘He’ll have to leave the ship. Bones, this ship’s his life.’

‘Jim.’ Kirk looked up to see his friend’s eyes full of concern, for him now, not for Spock. ‘Yes, he may have to leave the ship, but he’s not going to be moved from that bed, let alone back to Vulcan or any other planet – for at least a month, maybe two. Don’t think about that yet.’

‘Do you know what caused the explosion? I haven’t received any kind of brief.’

‘No one knows yet. You know I’d just beamed over – to treat a burnt hand in the engine room. That’s why I could at least treat Spock’s burns properly. It’s lucky I was there – and thank God sickbay was empty at the time. Spock was on the floor outside the phaser room, with his clothes on fire. He was – screaming, holding Jordan. Wouldn’t let go of him. All communications were down, the transporter. We couldn’t get him back here, or get equipment beamed over. God, we couldn’t even tell anyone, Jim. By the time that was fixed, it was too late to treat his eyes. I felt so damned useless – a chief surgeon, and I couldn’t save his sight because we didn’t have the equipment.’

‘I’m sorry, Bones,’ was all Kirk could say.

‘Medical officers are trained to deal with situations like this. They just don’t tell you what to do when one of the victims is your friend.’

‘Bones, I should go to the bridge,’ he began. ‘I need to speak the commander on the _Italia_.’

‘Scotty can sort that out. Jim, Spock needs you here now. Don’t walk out on him like you did at Deneva.’

‘Bones, I don’t know what to say to him. I didn’t then, and I don’t know now.’

‘You’re doing fine so far. Just be his friend. He just needs someone with him now.’

The captain turned back to Spock. He could hardly bear to see the Vulcan so pale and weak. Spock lay perfectly still under the thin orange blanket, his brown eyes open and horribly vacant. Words filtered through into his mind.

‘Is he conscious still?’

‘I think so.’

‘Oh, Bones, how will he cope? He’s Vulcan.’ Jim’s voice, tinged with such despair and sadness that Spock wished he hadn’t been able to hear.

He flinched as footsteps came close. Kirk had his mouth by one of the sensitive Vulcan ears. ‘Spock. Can you hear me?’

The voice was loaded with concern. Spock wanted to sink into a trance, to find the pure disciplines of logic he desperately needed right now, but he knew that would frighten Jim more than the darkness frightened him, and he couldn’t stand the idea of descending into that empty void that had been there since he had realised his eyes could no longer see.

He brought himself back to full awareness, and nodded his head ever so slightly. ‘I can hear you.’ He was aware of the total blackness again now, and pain. He was glad to feel Jim’s hand take his again.

‘It’s okay, Spock,’ Kirk whispered, then sighed. ‘You know there was nothing else you could’ve done for the boy.’

‘I know.’ Somehow it didn’t help to know nothing in the galaxy would have saved him. On another level, he wondered vaguely how he could hold a conversation when everything anyone said seemed such a confused, unintelligible blur. ‘Jim, I can’t feel my eyes. I – do still have my eyes?’ he asked shakily.

‘God, of course you do, Spock!’ McCoy exclaimed, coming back over to the Vulcan. ‘I gave you surgical nerve suppressant. It’s not recommended for long periods of time, but at least it’ll numb the pain for a little while.’

‘Spock, do you want to talk about it?’ Kirk asked, even though he knew the answer.

‘Maybe later, Jim,’ came the expected response, in a surprisingly soft tone.

Kirk squeezed his hand gently. ‘You really should try to get some sleep. You look exhausted.’

‘Captain, Ensign Chekov and Angharad Davies can manage the science station for now,’ Spock said, deliberately changing the subject. ‘But I have some urgent duties that should be re-routed to a computer here.’

‘Spock, you have to sleep. You know you can’t work.’

Spock stayed silent. Twice he had slept, and twice he had woken from terrifying nightmares, screaming or sobbing, his mind disciplines useless. He tried to think of some excuse to stay awake, but Kirk spoke before he had to.

‘I’ll stay with you, or someone else will. Bones will be here too.’

Spock nodded weakly in grateful thanks. Even lying flat his head spun and ached. Fatigue dominated his pale features, along with the stress brought by the nightmares. His eyes were already closing. He couldn’t keep the heavy lids up. There was no reason to keep them open now…

Then he was waking again from another terrifying dream, the searing pain back in his eyes, but Jim was there, telling him he’d been asleep nearly half the day.

Christine Chapel stepped quietly to his bed, holding a small cup. She touched him lightly on the shoulder.

‘Mr Spock. I’d like you to drink this.’

Spock started as the new voice broke into the darkness, sounding strangely disembodied, floating above him somewhere. He turned his head toward the noise, and his lips formed the word, ‘Christine?’

‘Yes. Will you drink this? It’ll help with the pain.’

He swallowed, trying to moisten his throat. ‘What is it?’

‘Just some juice with a topical painkiller in it. You breathed in a lot of fumes. It doesn’t taste so nice, but it’ll help soothe your throat and ease the pain inside.’

‘Thank you.’ He pushed his hand out slowly into the black, and felt Christine gently close his long slender fingers around the cup. Her hand held for an instant, unwilling to let go, then Spock pulled his hand away reluctantly and brought the cup to his lips. It seemed unbelievably heavy – or his arm was unbelievably weak.

‘Can you manage?’ Kirk and Chapel spoke simultaneously.

He blinked in accordance and drunk the unpleasant liquid. Kirk’s eyes drifted to Spock’s again. They were beginning to look green and watery, the previously clear brown irises slowly clouding over with white, cloaking the terrible emptiness with a worse isolation. Chapel glanced at the captain.

‘That’ll go,’ she promised quietly. ‘His eyes are extraordinarily resilient – against the heat damage. It’ll heal, like all the burns.’

‘Does – does it hurt?’ Kirk asked in a faint voice. ‘Bones said the medication will have worn off.’

‘Not unbearably,’ Spock told him.

‘Phenomenally,’ Chapel contradicted. ‘Imagine exploding gas touching the unprotected eyes... I’m sorry, Mr Spock,’ she said hastily, as she saw the Vulcan flinch.

‘How d’you feel now?’ the captain asked him. He took the empty cup as Spock dropped it to the blanket.

‘Weak, Captain. Very weak. I can control the pain – but I don’t believe I even have the strength to sit.’

‘What about – what about your eyes?’

Spock blinked, then was reminded by the pain not to. The noises and clatter of daytime were so strange without any visual accompaniment. He opened his mouth and took a deep breath.

‘It’s confusing. Difficult to explain... Jim – ’ Spock reached out, and Kirk took his hand. Something caught in his throat when he saw Spock’s strong, gentle, burnt hand groping for him like that.

‘I know,’ he said, ‘But I’m with you, Spock. I’ll stay for as long as you want me.’

Spock’s hand tightened on Kirk’s. ‘It simply makes no sense,’ he said with faint desperation, ‘that the last light I shall ever see was – yesterday, whenever it was...’

McCoy turned around, then came back to the Vulcan. ‘It will take time for you to make sense of it,’ he said softly. ‘It doesn’t help that you’re injured, and you’ve got concussion.’

‘I don’t understand how it could have happened,’ he said blankly. ‘What happened?’

‘Spock, you do remember the explosion?’ McCoy asked with worry.

He blinked slowly, then answered numbly, ‘The coolant gas exploded. Ensign Jordan was killed, because he was trapped by something and I couldn’t see what was happening. There was blood. I can still feel blood. Blood all over me.’

‘It’s okay,’ McCoy said, taking the Vulcan’s other hand.

‘It makes no sense,’ Spock repeated. The Vulcan’s voice was toneless now, as if the words were automatic, not registering in his mind.

‘Spock!’ McCoy could see his body stiffening, and realised the Vulcan was lapsing back into the cold, shocked state. ‘Spock, try to relax.’ He glanced at Kirk. ‘There’s a difference between just knowing you’re blind and suddenly realising that means you won’t ever see.’ He turned back to Spock. ‘Spock, withdrawing into yourself won’t help.’

‘I know.’ He said it slowly, forcing himself to acknowledge the fact. ‘I’m blind. I must simply accept it.’

‘Don’t force yourself – acceptance will come naturally, over the months.’

‘Months...’ the Vulcan echoed.

‘Spock, you won’t be able to see for a long time. Probably forever.’

Spock closed his eyes again. Tears were welling up and no matter how much he tried he couldn’t control them. Human emotions were suddenly flooding up, overwhelming him. Vulcan logic seemed illogical, foolish even. He couldn’t see the logic in staying calm when he had been told he would never see again. McCoy touched his arm for a moment in sympathy, then turned back to the nurse.

‘Doctor?’ she asked.

‘Come with me for a moment,’ he told her. ‘Jim, will you try to comfort him?’

Kirk nodded, unable to tear his eyes from Spock’s face. His Vulcan science officer had never looked like this before. Never quite so bad. He had seen him in various rare emotional states – upset, happy, angry, even insane, but it was a shock to find the Vulcan could actually be scared by anything – to actually see him crying. He hardly heard the nurse follow McCoy out of the long room.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Dr McCoy sat down behind his desk in the small surgeon’s office, scratching his head and leaving his hair tousled. He waved a hand towards a chair. ‘Sit down, Christine.’

The nurse slipped into the seat quietly and folded her hands on her lap. ‘He was close to going into shock.’

‘He doesn’t know how to deal with it.’ McCoy picked up a disc and began to toy with it, then dropped it back nervously onto the desk. ‘Under that Vulcan shell he’s not so tough. He won’t go into a proper healing trance, but – I don’t know – He tries to shut himself off, lowers all his vital signs as if he’s hibernating or something. It’s like some kind of primitive final resort to serious injury – sleep until it’s all better. But I’m afraid if we let him sink down completely he might not have the will to come out. He knows it won’t get better.’

‘But we can help him, can’t we?’ Chapel asked, alarmed.

‘Oh, I can bring him back with stimulants,’ McCoy nodded, ‘but I’d prefer not to have to. I know that Vulcans find it extremely hard to cope with blindness, and I don’t want him to be one of the ones that gives up. He really is trying to hold himself together.’

‘It’s good he’s crying, though. Isn’t it?’

‘I don’t know. It’s good for a human, bad for a Vulcan, and he’s both. He needs a whole medical book of his own. It’s partly the effects of that gas.’

‘He’s scared though. Doctor, I’ve never seen Mr Spock scared. I don’t know how to treat him.’

He smiled wanly. ‘Just do your best. I’m appointing you officially to look after him. He trusts you.’

‘He knows how I feel about him.’ Her heart ached as she told herself again that her feelings could never be returned.

McCoy looked at her, thinking that Spock must be crazy to refuse her. No. Not crazy. Just Vulcan. ‘I’m trusting you to keep your feelings under control. There’s no other nurse I’d be happy with caring for him.’

She smiled, embarrassed. ‘Thank you, sir. That means a lot to me. I’ll do my best.’

‘And Christine. I know you’re sad. We’re all devastated by this. But we have to stay cheerful, for Spock’s sake. Don’t let yourself break down in front of him. His life doesn’t have to end here, and I won’t let him give everything up. He can work without his eyes.’

‘On the _Enterprise_? As science officer?’

‘Christine, we can’t even begin to think of things like that at this time,’ he said tiredly. ‘Science officer is a very demanding, very skilled job.’

‘Mr Spock’s a very skilled, demanding person. He’ll try. You know he’ll work round the clock to get back to his job.’

‘If they let him.’

‘They have to let him try,’ she sighed. She paused for a moment, studying McCoy’s face. ‘Doctor, may I give you a medical opinion?’

‘What is it?’ he asked wearily.

‘You need sleep. You sat with him for hours on the _Italia_ , didn’t you, while he was unconscious?’

He nodded reluctantly, absently tapping a pen on the table top. ‘Seven hours. We couldn’t move him until he was more stable. But I can’t leave him now.’

‘You told me you trusted me to care for him, and there’s always Dr M’Benga. You had seven hours on the _Italia_ , and just as long here, and if you don’t go to your room to rest now I’ll sedate you and put you to bed in the ward.’

McCoy tossed the pen back onto the desk and wiped a hand over his eyes, not bothering to check her insubordination.

‘Maybe you’re right. I am pretty exhausted.’ He glanced into the ward, saw that Kirk was talking softly to the Vulcan. ‘Spock seems to be in good hands for now. See he gets plenty of rest. Don’t let him upset himself. If he gets too distressed, sedate him. And – ’ He yawned widely, ‘And get Dr M’Benga to report to sickbay. He knows more about Vulcan psychology than we do.’

‘I was going to,’ Chapel said, pulling him to his feet.

‘Call me if anything happens, or if he asks for me. I don’t want to risk having him upset even more.’

‘I will, Doctor. Don’t worry,’ she urged him, propelling him forcibly to the door. ‘Go.’

Chapel smiled at the doctor’s back, then went back into the quiet ward. Kirk glanced up at her, then gave Spock’s hand a gentle squeeze.

‘Spock, I have to go to the bridge,’ he said. ‘Scotty needs relieving. You understand?’

‘Of course,’ Spock answered quietly. ‘You have your duty.’

Jim would have given anything to forget his duty right now, and stay with Spock – to avoid having to announce to his friends that their best loved officer had been blinded. But that was why he was the captain – so someone would be there to do things like that.

‘You’ll be all right,’ he told Spock softly. He looked up at the nurse nearby. ‘Nurse Chapel’s here, and I’ll be back as soon as my shift’s finished.’

‘Dr McCoy?’

‘He’s gone to rest,’ Chapel said quietly. ‘He needs sleep – just like you do, Mr Spock.’

‘Bones’ll be back when he’s rested,’ Kirk promised the Vulcan, knowing McCoy wouldn’t rest any longer than he had to.

‘Jim – ’ Spock began quietly. ‘I can’t control the dreams. I need to sleep, but – ’

‘I’ll sit with you, Mr Spock,’ Christine promised. ‘I’ll be here when you wake up.’

‘I – am sorry, Captain, for my lack of discipline,’ Spock said slowly. ‘I am not finding this easy.’

Kirk glanced at the nurse, then closed both his hands around the Vulcan’s. ‘Spock, it’s all right to cry.’

Spock shook his head. ‘No, it is not.’

Kirk poised himself to argue, then decided not to upset the Vulcan more by pushing.

‘May I tell them what’s happened, up on the bridge?’ he asked. ‘They’ll want to know how you are.’

‘I know. Tell them on the bridge, but I want no visitors.’

‘All right, Spock.’ He turned to Nurse Chapel. ‘Nurse, will you call me if he needs me, even if he orders you not to?’

‘Of course I will, sir,’ she said with a sad smile.

Chapel slipped into Kirk’s place and the captain strode out of the door, happy that at least that nurse was the best to take care of his friend.

 

Kirk walked quietly onto the bridge and sat in his chair, hardly noticing Scott move out of it before him. Then he saw the man standing expectantly at his elbow.

‘You can go now, Scotty,’ he muttered, waving his arm toward the lift. Scott nodded and left quickly. Kirk tapped his fingers on the arm of his chair nervously, trying to think of what to say. Then Sulu turned around from the helmsman’s control console.

‘Sir. Scotty told us about Mr Spock. Is he going to be all right, Captain?’

‘He has severe burns, broken ribs, but he’ll recover from those. He also inhaled gas that’s left him very weak – the doctor tells me it’ll take a long time for him to recover his strength – but he will recover.’

Sulu smiled, ‘I’m glad, sir. From Scotty’s face I thought something was really...’ He paused, looking at Kirk hard. ‘What’s wrong, sir?’

‘There was something else you haven’t been told,’ Kirk said hollowly.

In the navigator’s chair, Chekov exchanged a glance with Sulu, then looked over his shoulder curiously as the captain stood stiffly. He looked about the bridge, and took a breath.

‘I’d like everyone’s attention for a moment.’

‘What is it, sir?’ Uhura asked quietly, turning from the communications board.

‘It’s only fair to tell you, his friends, but I want no one to spread it around until he gives permission. As you know, Mr Spock was injured during an explosion aboard the _Italia_. He was badly burned.’ Kirk stopped, realising his voice was breaking up. He took a deep breath and opened his mouth again. ‘He was also – he was also blinded – by the exploding phaser coolant. I – hope you will all give him the support he deserves. That is all.’

Kirk’s knees gave way and he sank back into the chair. He bit his lip hard as he felt his throat choking up. Chekov stood awkwardly, gripping the back of his chair. For a moment Kirk was worried he was about to faint.

‘Mr Spock – is blind?’ he asked slowly. ‘Not like before, on Deneva? Permanently?’

‘No. Not like Deneva. This won’t go after a few hours and there won’t be any nice surprises. There’s no treatment for it. No cure.’

‘Is he all right?’

The question sounded foolish, but Kirk understood.

‘He’s in pretty bad shock. You can take over his scanners, Mr Chekov.’

‘A-aye, sir.’

Kirk stared at the large white starship floating on the viewscreen. The  _Italia_ . Larger than  _Enterprise_ , and a more streamlined shape, it gleamed beautifully in the light of all the stars around. A long tethering line reached down to the San Francisco Space Docks where it was built, giving it the impression of being a fancy helium filled balloon. A fraction of Earth was visible behind, the planet’s blue and green colours peeping over the edge of the screen, obscured by thin wisps of white cloud. The extravagant new ship hovering in black space looked deceptively clean and innocent, but it made Kirk feel sick.

‘Captain?’

Why was Sulu looking at him so curiously? Then he realised tears were flooding over from his eyes and streaming down his face. He tried not to think of Spock. He couldn’t stand thinking of the Vulcan lying there so weak, knowing he would never see again. He closed his teeth over his bottom lip until it turned white.

Sulu tactfully ignored the captain’s emotional state. ‘Sir. Any orders?’

‘Yes, Mr Sulu. Just – just get us as far from that damned ship as possible,’ he said bitterly. ‘I don’t want to ever look at that thing again.’ Kirk wrenched his eyes from the viewscreen, then seemed to realise that his orders had been rather vague. ‘Plot a course for Starbase 3, warp 5. We have to pick up a consignment of provisions for the colony on Shedir.’

‘Aye, aye, sir.’ Sulu stared at his knees for a moment, then lifted his head again. ‘Sir. I’m sorry about Mr Spock.’

‘I’m sure everyone is, but sympathy won’t bring back his sight, nor will it run this ship.’ The captain turned at a noise of creeping footsteps. ‘Mr Chekov?’ he asked icily. ‘Where are you going?’

Chekov stopped guiltily in his tracks at the lift doors, and turned around. ‘I’d like to see Mr Spock, sir. May I go?’

‘Chekov.’ Kirk got up from his chair and went to the Russian navigator, seeing that the man was deeply shocked. Barely a man, he remembered. Only in his early twenties. People got too close on a ship like this, working in dangerous situations, saving each other’s lives. Everyone on the bridge had been stunned by the news, but Chekov especially. Kirk knew that Spock worked with him frequently, training him for a position in sciences.

Kirk lowered his tone to a more kindly one. ‘Chekov, he doesn’t want to see anyone yet. He’s trying to sleep now. He’s very sick, very shocked and upset.’

‘A Wulcan lives for two hundred years,’ Chekov began. ‘Two hundred years vithout sight...’

‘I hope he will have come to terms with this long before he dies,’ Kirk said gently. He put his hand on Chekov’s arm. ‘Pavel, I know you’re concerned, but there’s nothing you can do by going down there. They won’t let you in.’

‘Then – may I go to my quarters, sir? I don’t think I can attend to my work.’

‘I do understand how you feel. You go.’

Chekov nodded gratefully and went to the lift as Kirk returned to his chair. The captain started as he realised Lieutenant Uhura was standing at his side.

‘Captain. Are you okay?’ she asked, concerned.

Kirk looked up into her dark eyes and smiled. Then they reminded him of Spock’s lonely blind eyes and his heart flopped over again. He knew even Uhura’s lovely dark face couldn’t cheer him this time.

‘I don’t know,’ he confessed wearily. ‘I can’t believe it happened. Not to Spock.’

‘Is it really permanent?’

‘There’s so little hope of him seeing again we may as well forget it.’ He clenched and unclenched his fists. ‘It’s so hard to see him like that. So alone.’

‘What’s going to happen to him? What’s Starfleet policy?’

‘It’d kill him to get pensioned out of Starfleet. I’m damned if I’ll let him lose his job,’ he added with sudden ferocity.

Uhura gave him a look of resigned hopelessness. ‘I know Mr Spock would hate to leave the  _Enterprise_ , sir. He won’t give up his job, will he?’

‘Maybe if we all help him adjust... We could find him some job... I don’t know. Who am I kidding?’ he asked suddenly. ‘I guess we’ll have to accept that we won’t see him on the bridge again.’

Uhura pictured Mr Spock in her mind, remembering his determination. She was sure she would see him here again.

‘Can we do anything for him?’ she asked.

Kirk shrugged. ‘Be there when he needs us. Understand what he’s going through. Be ready to help him when he gets out of sickbay.’ He laughed hollowly. ‘There’s no point in sending him get well cards. Blank pieces of black paper.’

‘Can’t he see anything, at all? Not even colour, light? I thought most blind people could see something.’

‘There’s nothing. I think there’s nothing. Just darkness.’

‘But he’d still appreciate a card. I’m going to give him one – a tactile one,’ she decided. ‘Vulcans have sensitive fingers. If he won’t let us see him, at least we can let him know we all care about him.’

‘Maybe. Look.’ He patted her arm reassuringly, trying a smile. ‘I’m going to call up a full relief bridge crew.’ Kirk raised his voice to the whole bridge. ‘I know all this has been a terrible shock. Anyone who wants the afternoon off can have it. I certainly can’t concentrate. You can go to your quarters, or a rec. room, or whatever, but everyone stay clear of sickbay. Mr Spock’s too ill to have people queuing up to see him.’

 

Chekov slipped out of the turbo lift, trying not to look furtive. As soon as he stepped into the lift he had ordered, ‘Sickbay,’ and the elevator shot him rapidly to deck 7, stopping a little way from the room he wanted. He rubbed his damp palms down his golden top as he covered seemingly miles of corridor to the door. He knew he had to see Mr Spock, but he didn’t know quite what he would see, or what he would say to his senior officer. Kirk had said upset. How upset? Upset for a Vulcan, or really upset? He could be a wreck of tears and panic, or he could be lying there seemingly unemotional, too aloof to speak to.

Those thoughts carried Chekov to the door, and he glanced over the threshold into the chief surgeon’s office, glad to see it empty. He went through the examination room and stopped in the doorway to the intensive care ward. Spock lay two beds along, sleeping uneasily, while Nurse Chapel leant over him in her chair, stroking his arm to soothe him. Then she heard a shuffling of feet, and looked up sharply.

‘Chekov!’ She came across to him quickly. ‘Weren’t you told to go to the other room? But what’s wrong with you?’ she asked in a whisper, then added, ‘Keep your voice down.’

‘Nothing wrong, Nurse,’ Chekov answered, trying, but not succeeding, to sound authoritative. ‘I came to see Mr Spock.’

‘I’m sure you know he can’t have visitors,’ the nurse said. She attempted sternness, but failed as miserably as Chekov had.

The young Russian looked over the tall woman’s shoulder. Spock was moving fitfully in the bed, mumbling in a voice that half sobbed. Before the nurse could stop him he was by Spock’s bed, touching the Vulcan’s shoulder. His eyes flickered open, then closed again as Chekov soothed him.

‘It’s all right, sir,’ he said gently. ‘Ve’re here, Mr Spock.’

Spock’s breathing slowed to a regular, peaceful movement, and he began to settle again into deep, exhausted sleep.

‘ _Chekov_.’ The nurse was glaring down at him. ‘If it wasn’t for Mr Spock I’d be shouting at you and if I approved of violence I’d quite probably strike you. Get out of here now.’

She took Chekov by the arm and marched him out into the corridor.

‘He’s so badly burned,’ Chekov said, seeming stunned. ‘So badly burned. And his eyes... Vill they always look like that?’

‘They’ll look normal in a few days. Maybe sooner. Maybe his pupils will look a little different. Not so – ’ She choked back a sudden wave of sadness. ‘They won’t look so clear. They’re blocked, by – by a build up of dark cells. Chekov, you have to go. Mr Spock’s too ill...’

‘I’m sorry,’ he shrugged. ‘I had to see him though. It’s so much vorse for a Wulcan. A Wulcan science officer. To lose his sight. Mr Spock is – vell – It’s wrong,’ he finished in exasperation.

‘I know,’ she said more gently. ‘But don’t let anyone know you were here, or I’ll be in deep trouble. I have to go back now. He can’t be left alone.’ She shooed him down the corridor, saying, ‘I’ll let you know how he gets on.’

Then she turned and hurried back into the sickbay where Spock was tossing again uneasily, half awake. She sat down by him, muttering words of comfort, struggling to keep her own emotions from breaking through. The Vulcan woke up a little more, incoherent and confused, and she gently soothed him and stroked an unburnt patch on his cheek. Spock was too ill and dazed by tiredness to worry about his Vulcan dignity, and the caring voice and touch were too reassuring to reject. He let her gently brush his cheek with her fingers until he was soothed back to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

Two weeks later, Spock was still in the same intensive care bed, slipping in and out of unconsciousness between meagre meals and doses of medication. He felt as if he was existing in an odd twilight world – either asleep in a nightmare, or awake in a strange, dark world that made him unsure if anything was real. Sometimes he wondered if this was some poison-induced dream, and the things McCoy muttered occasionally about blindness were just a bizarre joke. Then in more lucid times he was vividly aware of the pain, and the blackness that wouldn’t go away, and that this blindness McCoy talked about was his blindness. But he couldn’t summon up logic to help him understand, and he couldn’t attain a healing trance without images of blood and fire tearing him out of it. He didn’t care any more. If all this was true, he didn’t intend to be around in a few months to cope with weakness or blindness.

McCoy was becoming more and more worried about Spock’s mental state – it ranged from total despair to complete apathy. The Vulcan refused to see any visitor but Jim, and hardly spoke to the medical staff, unable to calm if someone wasn’t there when he woke from a nightmare, but refusing to relax if it was anyone but Kirk, McCoy or Chapel seeing him in that state. All three were exhausted after two weeks of nightly shifts sitting with Spock to be there when the nightmares woke him.

McCoy couldn’t get used to him sitting bolt upright in his bed and screaming for Jim, clothes soaked in sweat. He always woke in the same terrified state he’d woken from the real accident, needing someone to hold him tightly until he calmed back to shocked silence. It pained McCoy to see the proud Vulcan struggling against such terrible emotional collapse, and always losing – but at last, as the burns healed, he seemed to be less and less in the semi-delirium, aware that the blindness was real. But with the awareness came the deep despair and pain that the medical books said Vulcans experienced far more intensely than their human counterparts.

McCoy’s heart had sunk when Commodore Mendez beamed onto the ship. He didn’t for one second believe the surprise inspection excuse – there had been no informal warnings through sub-space chatter or a friend high up. The announcement to Starfleet of Mr Spock’s incapacitation was the required procedure, but he didn’t think an officer would have been sent over quite so fast to tell him he was honourably retired with a full pension and all medical costs paid. He knew that if Spock was taken away from everything he knew right now, he would be balancing on a knife edge as to whether he ever recovered with his sanity intact.

 

Dr McCoy rubbed a cloth furiously across the shining desk surface, excusing his obsessive behaviour by informing the nurses of the inspection. Nurse Chapel watched him with worry, but she covered her concern with a cheerful smile for his sake.

‘You must have cleaned this room at least ten times, and the desk is wearing through, Doctor,’ she said lightly. ‘It’s not all for a surprise visit.’

He grunted noncommittally, and carried on scrubbing. Chapel had seen this kind of frenzied, nervous behaviour before in the doctor, and knew it usually meant something. He had even forgotten to take off the dress uniform that he usually threw down in his room the second he had left the eyes of the people they were meant to impress.

‘What’s wrong?’ she asked the doctor gently.

‘He wants to see Spock,’ McCoy said through gritted teeth, picking at a spot of some sticky substance on the table.

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘He wants to see Spock. That damn commodore. Don’t you understand?’ He looked up at her impatiently. ‘He’s come to take Spock away,’ he said heavily, turning away from her.

‘Oh, no!’ Chapel exclaimed. ‘They can’t! It’s only been two weeks since – since... He’s not well enough to travel yet, let alone psychologically fit – ’

He whirled on her angrily, slamming the cloth down on the table. ‘D’you think I don’t know that? Do you think I want to see some other science-freak coming and clearing out Spock’s quarters and standing on the bridge in his uniform?’ Then he softened, seeing the hurt expression on her face. ‘I’m sorry, Christine. I guess I’m upset.’

‘We all are,’ she said softly. ‘No one wants to see him go.’

‘Who does he think he is, anyway, coming onto this ship smiling, pretending everything’s fine? Damn planet-bound, desk-bound paper pusher. What’s he going to do? Send Spock back to Vulcan, or put him in that place we found Christopher Pike until he’s well? He’d kill himself, sitting in those rooms.’

‘Doctor, did he say he’d come to take Mr Spock?’ Chapel asked sensibly.

‘He wants to talk to him.’

‘Then he didn’t say he was taking him away?’

McCoy shrugged, and turned back to the desk, scrubbing again at the adhesive pink splodge. ‘What is this stuff? It sticks like the devil.’

The nurse bent over the desk and sniffed lightly. ‘Cough medicine. Don’t you remember? You were giving some to Janice Rand and you knocked the bottle over.’

‘Oh yes. But that was ages – ’

‘Dr McCoy? Are you here?’

They both spun at the faint voice to see Spock standing half slumped in the doorway, clinging to the grey frame. His thin face was pale as death, almost skeletal in the greenish light. McCoy leapt to him quickly, seeing he was about to faint.

‘Spock! What’re you doing out of bed?’

‘What is happening?’ His voice shook with weakness and he angrily tried to steady it. ‘I heard raised voices.’

‘Come sit down.’ McCoy prised Spock’s hands from the door-frame and put his arm around the Vulcan’s middle. Deprived of half his support Spock almost fell. ‘Whoa there,’ McCoy exclaimed. ‘Nurse, give me a hand here.’

Together they led Spock to a chair and lowered him into the seat. He fought furiously to stop his hands and body trembling, dropping his head for a moment to help the sick-dizzy feeling fade away.

‘God, you look awful,’ McCoy told him in a tired voice.

Spock lifted his head again. ‘Doctor, is it always your policy to tell patients how ill they look?’ he asked stiffly.

‘I do when they’re as ill as you are, and shouldn’t be sitting up, let alone walking.’

‘Doctor, why were you shouting?’ he asked.

‘It’s nothing for you to worry about,’ McCoy reassured him gently.

Spock sighed in frustration. ‘Doctor, don’t try to keep me in the dark. I am still first officer of this ship. If there is trouble, I would like to be informed.’

‘We were just arguing a new drug,’ he protested. He couldn’t bring himself to tell the Vulcan that he could be taken off the ship to a strange hospital, to be cared for by strange people. ‘Christine thinks it’s a miracle cure and I think it’s downright dangerous. That’s all.’

‘Why are you wearing your dress uniform?’ Spock asked, remembering the stiff feel of the expensive material as McCoy had helped him.

‘I’m not,’ McCoy said firmly. ‘Why should I be?’

Spock sighed, and left it at that. It was really no consequence to him what dignitaries were on the ship – unless it was his parents. He still had his title, but he wasn’t really part of the ship’s command crew any more.

‘How are your eyes feeling?’ McCoy asked quickly, trying to steer the conversation away from the commodore as naturally as possible. Spock’s attitude at that only seemed to become more depressed.

‘Redundant, Doctor,’ he said flatly, ‘as is the remainder of my body.’

‘Do they hurt?’

‘There is less pain, but still a good deal of discomfort.’

‘I’ll root out some drops that might help that, Spock. At least you’re talking now,’ he muttered. ‘Now if we can only get you to eat something, instead of splattering it over the wall.’

Spock kept a dignified silence, remembering with shame the more muddled times when he had slammed his dinner plate into the wall with a sudden rush of strength because every time he lifted his fork to his mouth his teeth closed on bare metal. He was eating more successfully now the burns were healing and cutlery was easier to handle, the food easier to detect at the other end.

‘Okay, I shouldn’t have brought that up,’ McCoy conceded. ‘But I still want you to eat.’

‘I have been eating,’ Spock protested. ‘You make sure of that.’

‘Not enough,’ McCoy grumbled. ‘You’ve lost a lot of weight. You haven’t eaten a full meal for two weeks.’

‘I can barely remember the last two weeks, except as some kind of bad dream. I know I must fast so as to clear my thoughts. That is the only way to restore logic to my mind.’

‘Spock, when you’re well you can fast all you like, but not now.’

‘Doctor, why can you not respect the Vulcan ways?’

‘I won’t respect Vulcan ways if they’re likely to kill you. Spock, I know you’re confused. You’re bound to be. You’re looking for some reason for this to have happened to you. You want to know why. But you won’t find out by not eating. You’ll just starve yourself to death, and you won’t be able to figure anything if you’re in a coffin.’

‘Maybe that would be best,’ Spock said morosely.

‘I’m not going to let you die just because you can’t see,’ McCoy replied sharply, worried at the Vulcan’s attitude. ‘There’s no sense in that, and you know it.’

‘I can try to eat more, Doctor.’

‘That’s good. Just a little more each day. Then when you’re stronger you can begin rehabilitation, and everything will start getting easier. I’ll just give you this now.’

‘What is it?’

‘Just a hypo. It’ll give you a little more strength, maybe make it easier to deal with your feelings.’

Spock shook his head firmly. McCoy would only cluck and fuss more if he actually admitted the truth. ‘I am not so upset – I was not serious about a wish to die. Of course there is no logic in it.’

‘You know you’ve been very distraught, Spock. You don’t have to be ashamed of letting that out a little more, to stop it building up into something worse.’

‘I assure you, I am not upset,’ Spock tried to convince him. ‘I am only feeling – stress – trying to adjust to blindness. Please do not try to provoke more emotion within me. Such emotion can only cause destruction.’

‘You know that’s not true. You’re half human, and you’re more susceptible to emotion – we both know that, so there’s no point in denying it. And the most logical way to get rid of those emotions is to cry and scream and sob until all the frustration and anger has gone. It won’t help to push everything under a blanket of logic when you just haven’t got the mental strength to believe what you’re telling yourself. And that’s not a slur on your mental abilities. It’s a fact that you’re not strong enough now to cope in a logical way with what’s happened. Those terrible dreams are taking it all out of you too. I prescribe rest and sleep. God knows, you need it.’

Spock’s head dropped in shame, remembering the uncontrollable feeling of helplessness those dreams always gave him. He just couldn’t control the emotions when he woke from them.

‘Please, Doctor,’ he said exhaustedly. ‘I do not want to begin an argument.’

‘I know.’ McCoy’s voice was gentle now, concerned. ‘But at least take the shot. If it makes you more relaxed it may stop the dreams. I know you don’t like drugs, but otherwise I’ll have to give you sedation at night. Jim’s close to exhaustion, staying up every night, and I have to stay fresh for surgery.’

‘I shall take the shot.’ He heard a hiss as the drug was shot into his arm, then Chapel’s voice.

‘I’ll take you back to bed, Mr Spock. Can you walk?’

‘With support.’

She put her arm around his back to hold him up, and soon he was back in bed, tucked under the warm orange blanket. McCoy gazed at the half dozing form from the doorway of his office, worrying. It wasn’t normal for a Vulcan to almost pass out – not like Spock was at the moment, just from walking a few steps. He was very weak, McCoy reasoned – and half human. More human than he’d ever known. But Spock’s statement that death may be better than blindness disturbed him. He knew from research that at least fifty percent of Vulcans that suddenly became blind displayed the same wish to die – and that too big a number of them fulfilled that wish.

The swish of his office door opening broke into McCoy’s thoughts, and he turned to see Mendez standing in the doorway.

‘Commodore Mendez,’ he said with fake surprise. ‘Did you want to see Mr Spock, sir?’

He nodded, coming into the room properly. ‘I’d like to speak to you first though.’

‘Sir?’

‘Is Commander Spock’s blindness permanent, Doctor?’

McCoy eyed him warily. ‘I really can’t say,’ he said cautiously. ‘The phaser coolant gas hitting the eyes produces rapid development of opaque cells in the pupil. Sometimes it breaks down, after time.’

‘So he could regain his sight?’

‘About five percent of people do. It’s a very slim, very random chance. There doesn’t seem to be a factor that causes the cells to break down. Just some people are lucky.’

‘And what about his mental state?’

‘He’s upset and confused right now. That’s understandable, though.’

‘For a Vulcan?’

‘Vulcans don’t deal well with blindness. On top of that, the gas that exploded has a debilitating effect on the mind and body. He’s terribly weak, and he’s just finding it harder to control his emotions.’

‘Is that going to be a problem – I mean, will he come to terms with this?’

‘The effects of the gas will wear off, and he will accept his blindness in time,’ McCoy said, hoping he sounded surer than he felt.

‘I see. Is he well enough to talk to me? I have some things to discuss. They’re relatively important.’

‘He mustn’t be tired and he mustn’t be upset. Otherwise, yes.’ McCoy put emphasis on the word upset, and tried hard not to glare at the man.

‘I don’t think I’ll upset him, Doctor,’ the commodore smiled.

McCoy’s response was a frown. He stared at the man curiously. What did he think Spock was? A man of stone? ‘You can go through,’ he said reluctantly.

Spock stiffened slightly as unfamiliar footsteps approached his bed. McCoy knew he wanted no visitors. He had thought he could trust the doctor.

‘Who is that?’ he asked curiously. ‘Who’s there?’

The commodore stared at the head turning towards him. The Vulcan’s face was hardly different to the last time he had seen it, maybe thinner and rather pale, but the deep brown eyes were very different, still and vacant. He felt a pang of sadness as he saw their dull, matt-black pupils.

‘Who is that?’ Spock asked again. ‘Please identify yourself.’

‘Commodore Mendez, Mr Spock. We’ve met before.’

‘Commodore!’ Spock strengthened his voice and tried to stand. ‘I apologise, sir. I didn’t realise it was...’

‘You wouldn’t know I was on the ship.’ He took Spock’s arm to steady him and gently sat him back down. ‘There’s no need to stand on ceremony, Mr Spock. I know you’re still weak. Lie down.’

‘Yes, sir. Thank you.’ Spock wondered with some concern why the commodore had come to the ship to see him. He could only assume it was to relieve him of his duties in Starfleet. ‘I think there is a chair by the bed.’

‘Yes. There is.’ He sat down and regarded the Vulcan. ‘I was making an inspection, but I wanted to speak to you too.’

‘Please proceed.’

‘I understand your blindness may not be permanent.’

‘Dr McCoy has explained the 5.23% recovery rate. However, it does seem too slim a chance to pin all one’s hopes on, as I believe the expression goes.’

‘It’s still a chance.’

‘It is unlikely that I’ll see again,’ Spock said, his face unreadable. ‘I assume you have come to terminate my employment, sir. I shall have my belongings packed up, and shall leave the ship as soon as McCoy allows it.’ Spock tried to keep his voice to a monotone at the thought of making his way back to Vulcan alone, having to catch countless passenger ships while he was still so unused to the darkness.

‘Mr Spock, we’re not going to throw you out of Starfleet!’ the commodore protested, startled that the Vulcan had thought that. ‘On the contrary – we believe that you can continue at your post with special training, and alterations to equipment. We think you’re capable enough to manage that.’

‘I have never heard of someone in my position retaining their post after losing their sight,’ Spock said honestly.

‘Your Vulcan qualities tip the balance to your advantage. We know how easily Vulcans learn. There are blind people in Starfleet. I know there are none of your rank on a starship as yet, but you do have your brilliant Vulcan senses, and years of experience on this ship. Of course there must be elements of your job which require observation, but Starfleet is willing to employ an assistant who would help you with anything you felt you couldn’t do yourself. Are you willing to attempt it?’

‘I am very willing to try, sir.’

‘I thought so. You’ll have to transfer to a training facility on earth for a few months. They’d teach you how to live with your blindness, and help you train in the starship simulators in Starfleet Academy.’

‘I shall have to stay on the _Enterprise_ at present, sir, but I shall attend the training facility as soon as I have recovered my strength.’

‘That will be perfectly acceptable. You’re a valuable man, Mr Spock. Starfleet can’t afford to lose an officer like you.’

Spock raised an eyebrow above an empty eye. ‘I appreciate the compliment, Commodore.’

‘You’re to be awarded a medal for your brave action on the _Italia_. You exposed yourself to considerable risk staying in the room to try to help your partner.’

‘I acted logically on the _Italia_ , not bravely, sir,’ the Vulcan said, his voice suddenly stonily cold. ‘I do not desire a decoration. A medal is for show. It would mean little to me.’

‘A medal is not just for show,’ Mendez protested lightly. ‘There’s the story behind it.’

‘The man still died,’ Spock said shortly. ‘I retrieved his body. Nothing else.’

‘You could have left it there to burn, but you risked yourself further to get it out,’ the man argued. ‘Logically you should have left the body there and got out yourself.’

‘I thought the young man’s family deserved his body intact.’

‘Will you accept the medal? There’ll be a presentation.’

Spock considered the question, visualising a special ceremony, rows of people watching while someone led him up to have a medal pinned to his chest, and proclaimed how brave and selfless he had been, how tragic his injury was and how courageous he had been since. It all seemed so distasteful and illogical.

‘I shall accept the medal for courtesy’s sake, sir, but I’m not ready to attend a presentation,’ he excused himself. ‘I am hardly able to walk.’

‘I understand, Mr Spock. But I’m afraid I have to go now. I’m on a tight schedule, and so’s your ship.’

‘I am grateful that you spoke to me, sir. I had been concerned for my future.’

‘Well, there’s no need for you to worry now. Goodbye, Mr Spock. I hope you’re well soon. And I hope you’ll be one of those five percent.’

‘Thank you, sir.’ Spock waited until the commodore had gone, then he closed his eyes and let himself fall back asleep, able to relax now more fully than he had before. At least he was sure of a home and a future now. A few minutes later, Commodore Mendez left the ship, and the _Enterprise_ changed course to shoot off into space towards the Klingon neutral zone.

 

Spock was awakened some time later by the sound of someone working noisily in the ward. As he moved the clatter stopped, and the person came over to his bed.

‘Spock,’ Dr McCoy said half grudgingly. ‘I’ve been waiting hours for you to wake up. What did the commodore have to say? He wouldn’t tell me.’

‘I am to be allowed to stay at my job when I’m recovered, blind or not.’

‘That’s great!’ He sat down beside the bed. ‘I am pleased, Mr Spock. I was afraid he was coming to tell you that you had to leave.’

‘Starfleet has the utmost confidence in me,’ Spock said with a tinge of acid.

‘And do you?’

‘I am uncertain. I think with help and support I can do it.’

‘I’m sure you can. He said Starfleet’s presenting you with a medal.’

‘That is correct. But I do not want a medal to remind me of how I let someone die, and how I lost my sight. I would rather forget.’

‘You won’t forget, Spock, but the memory will get less painful.’

‘The commodore thought he could understand.’ Spock shook his head. ‘How could a human have any comprehension?’

‘I don’t know, Spock, but I’ve tried going about with my eyes closed, and I don’t mind telling you, it scared me.’

Spock sighed very quietly. ‘It’s not the same, Doctor. It is perhaps a little easier for me physically now, but you can open your eyes when you want to. If you’re in a dark room, you know that you can switch the lights on again. You have that choice, and I know I shall never have the same. When I stood up just now, I could not walk straight, I felt disoriented – I couldn’t open my eyes to check my position.’

‘Spock, you’re weak, you’re unsteady. It’ll come with time.’

‘I know. But – for now, I am scared. Nothing – nothing seems real, nothing has form or body, there are noises without source. Things do not feel like I know they look, day and night hardly seem separated, people suddenly have no facial expressions or gestures to help explain the meanings of their words. My surroundings are flat and featureless, or as good as, until I reach out and they gain form. It seems so confusing.’

McCoy reached out and squeezed his hand gently. ‘I’m sorry, Spock.’ He closed his hand around Spock’s firmly. ‘You know I can’t change the darkness, but I will try to make it easier as fast as we can both learn.’ He looked over his shoulder as he heard a hello from his office. ‘Now who’s that?’

‘It is Mr Scott, Doctor,’ Spock told him.

McCoy went through to the office to see Scott looking in through the door. ‘Headache?’ he asked him. ‘Or a strain perhaps? Take two aspirin.’

‘I came to see Mr Spock,’ Scott told him hopefully. ‘Is he taking visitors yet?’

‘I’ll go ask him,’ he promised, and he went back to Spock’s bed. ‘Spock, Scotty wants to see you. I really think you should let him. Everyone’s getting pretty worried, only relying on what Jim and I tell them. They want it from you in person.’

‘Doctor, I don’t want anyone to see me like this. Not yet.’

McCoy sighed, repeating Spock’s words in his mind.  _Don’t want anyone to see me like this_ . It jolted him to realise how uncertain and unconfident this had made Spock. It worried him to see the previously unshakeable Vulcan lying in bed, so quiet and nervous. He looked down at the pale, expressionless face.

‘Spock, you’ll have to face them sooner or later. Scotty’s your friend, or the closest thing a Vulcan can have. It’s quite natural for sudden blindness to make you upset and scared – he won’t mind – he just wants to see you.’

‘Very well,’ Spock nodded. ‘I shall see him. I know I should not block out my friends.’

‘I’ll call him through.’ McCoy went to meet Scott at the doorway. ‘Scotty, he’ll see you, but be gentle,’ he said quietly. ‘He’s extremely weak. That means no questions about calculations to improve warp drive, or worries about his bridge station.’

‘Aye, of course. I only want to see how he is.’ He crossed the room, and lowered himself into the chair by Spock’s bed. ‘Mr Spock. It’s Scotty, sir.’

‘Yes, I know your voice.’

‘Aye, of course,’ he said awkwardly. ‘We were all becoming concerned, sir. You haven’t let anyone see you.’ His voice was unusually quiet and gentle.

‘I was trying to come to terms with what has happened to me. I’ve had a great deal of thinking to do. I hope you can understand that.’

‘Aye, I can. I was there when you were beamed back from the _Italia_. I knew you were in shock of some sort. But Chekov’s been worried. He looks up to you, sir. He’s been wanting to see you.’

‘Yes. I – remember him being here,’ he said vaguely.

‘He’s been to see you?’ McCoy asked.

‘I – thought I heard his voice, on the day of the explosion – or some time around then. I lost track of time. Nurse Chapel was telling him to leave. He sounded upset,’ he remembered. ‘He is a passionate individual.’

‘Aye, he is,’ Scott nodded.

‘Mr Scott, has anything of significance happened on the bridge? I have been virtually unconscious for two weeks, and the captain will tell me of nothing remotely related to work.’

‘Well – ’ Scott glanced at McCoy. ‘Nothing’s really happened at all, sir. We’ve been surveying and mapping uncharted stars, I’ve had to do an overhaul of the dilithium chambers. Everyone’s been a little quiet, Mr Spock – we’ve all be so worried about you, feeling for you lying here so ill...’

‘I have just been told I still have my post as first officer,’ Spock broke in, trying to cut Scott off before he launched into excessive emotion.

‘That’s wonderful, Mr Spock,’ Scott smiled. ‘I was hoping you would. I’ve been talking over a scheme with the captain. Chekov and I are designing some wee sensors to help you walk around the ship. They’ll be put at strategic points, and linked to a hand-held guider, to help you find your way about. I’ll build in an echo-locater, too. I guess your ears are as sharp as any bat’s, and your brain’s clever enough to interpret the sounds. We can modify the library-computer station too, convert visual displays to audio-tactile ones. It’ll take some time, mind. It’s got to be approved by Starfleet, then we have to make it and set it up. It may take a few months – ’

‘But it will be worth it,’ Spock finished for him. ‘Thank you, Mr Scott. The thought was kind. I’ll need to be able to use my boards easily, and find my way alone – especially in emergencies.’

‘That’s what we thought. We all know you could run the ship blindfold, but – ’ His voice trailed off into the uncomfortable, embarrassed silence Spock still couldn’t get used to.

‘Thank you for your concern, Mr Scott,’ he said softly. ‘It is much appreciated. But I am very tired. You may stay – I think I am ready for visitors now – but I cannot make much conversation. I am sorry for any distress caused by refusing visits.’

‘You better go, Scotty,’ McCoy advised. ‘He’s looking pale. It’s been a long day.’

‘Mr Scott will not tire me further,’ Spock argued. ‘I welcome the company.’

‘I’ll stay a wee while then,’ Scott decided, settling back in his chair.

‘Spock,’ McCoy began. ‘I know we’ve had a few arguments in the past...’

Spock raised an eyebrow. ‘A few, Doctor?’

‘All right. Hundreds.’ He squirmed in his chair. ‘But you do know I care, don’t you? We are friends. Maybe not like you are with Jim, but friends all the same.’

‘I hope you are not simply being kind because I’m blind.’

‘Of course not, you – ’ McCoy began. ‘I’m sorry. No. I’m not. But I don’t mean what I say when we fight.’

‘I know that. I believe an argument is an effective way of relieving tension and stress. For a human, of course.’

‘Of course,’ he smiled. ‘And some half humans.’

‘Possibly. But I must sleep again now. I believe even the few steps to your office tired me.’

‘Then that’ll teach you not to get out of bed without help in the future. And, Spock – I was shouting because I was afraid he was taking you away. We weren’t talking about a drug. I was – Damn it, I was upset, Spock!’ he said ferociously.

‘I understand, Doctor.’

McCoy smiled sheepishly, and patted his arm. ‘You sleep then. Jim’ll be down later. He said he’d pop in.’

Spock was drifting back to sleep, his eyes slowly closing, when all the lights and power systems in sickbay flickered as the ship rocked violently. Spock was jerked awake, and he gave a gasp of momentary fear in the darkness.

‘My God! What was that?’ McCoy exclaimed as he was thrown hard into the opposite bed. The red alert lights flashed on, and there was the sudden noise of people running in the corridor outside. Spock grabbed hold of the sides of his bed as the ship gave a sickening lurch that almost tossed him onto the floor. He closed his eyes, waiting for the juddering to stop.


	4. Chapter 4

McCoy clutched at Spock’s bed, watching most of the medical equipment not locked in cupboards rolling wildly across the floor. The ship shuddered again as if it had been struck with a club, and the doctor groaned as an antique glass phial fell to the floor and smashed, spreading three hundred year old medicine over the carpet in a brown slick.

‘What the devil happened?’ he asked again, slowly gathering himself up off the floor.

‘I doubt it had anything to do with the devil, Doctor,’ Spock said calmly. ‘We are under fire. Klingon phaser fire, to be precise.’

‘Klingons are close enough to the devil for me, Spock,’ he said, silently assessing the Vulcan. He looked shaken, and the blankets from his bed had been half spilled onto the floor, but he wasn’t hurt.

‘How can you know they’re Klingon, Mr Spock?’ Scotty asked. ‘It could be Romulans – anyone.’

‘Use some logic, please, Mr Scott. It could not be anyone. Romulans do not use phasers like ours, and we are near Klingon space.’

‘Aye, we are. My poor wee bairns!’ Scott lamented, as there was an irregular cough in the soft background noise of the engines. ‘I have to get to my engine room,’ he said, rushing to the door.

‘You go look after your patients,’ McCoy nodded. He turned back to Spock’s bed and began to straighten out the rumpled blankets. ‘I’ll look after mine.’

‘Doctor, I was almost thrown out of bed,’ Spock said with tired impatience. ‘Restraints would be rather more effective than blankets.’

‘Catching the ‘flu would be pretty effective in your condition. Your resistance is already so low it’s not worth measuring,’ McCoy retorted, but he got security restraints on Spock as the ship shuddered again, and again. He clung to the bands himself, flung from side to side violently while the lights flashed off and on. ‘They don’t let up, do they? Shouldn’t we fire back?’

‘Our phasers may be damaged.’ Another shot hit, and Spock dug his fingers into the foam of his mattress until the movement calmed. ‘And our deflectors have just failed.’

‘How in hell can you tell that?’

‘Someone is listening to damage reports in the adjacent room, quite loud enough for me to hear them clearly. I suggest you do whatever your human rituals suggest for imminent death, Doctor.’

‘We’re not going to die, Spock,’ McCoy said with exasperation.

‘I should say it is quite possible,’ he said calmly ‘If we had warp power, we would have left. We have no shields, we have no weapons.’

‘The lights are low, too.’

‘Then our power reserves are failing. Unless the captain can open negotiations with them, we will be blown up. But I really cannot say anything dependable without facts. I am only extrapolating from my knowledge as first officer.’

‘Well that’s just great,’ McCoy said grumpily. ‘Thank you for brightening my day.’

‘We are not dead yet, Doctor. But the Klingons do not take prisoners,’ he said with calm acceptance. ‘Our lives are in their hands.’

‘Spock, will you stop?’ McCoy protested. ‘You’re not being exactly reassuring.’

‘I am not trying to reassure. I am only stating the facts as I know them.’

‘Well please just don’t. And I’m sure Jim and Scotty can get us out of this.’

‘I am sure,’ Spock echoed dryly, reflecting on his own uselessness. Even McCoy felt too sorry for him to argue. Even though arguments were illogical and pointless, he had to admit they added some variety and spark to life. He held onto the mattress as the ship gave a last lurch, then settled, engines gently throbbing as they slowed to a full stop, more felt than heard. The captain must be either preparing to surrender or talk.

‘You may undo the restraints now,’ he reminded the doctor.

‘Oh, yes,’ he said absently, fumbling with the straps. ‘Spock, I didn’t mean that – well – I didn’t mean you’re no use.’

‘I cannot help them from down here in the sickbay. I know what you meant.’

Spock fell silent as he heard the intercom whistle, sure it would be the captain. McCoy crossed swiftly to the desk and pressed the button. It was Kirk’s voice, as Spock had expected, but it was faint, crackling on and off as if it was being heard through a storm.

‘Bones. Intercoms are at half power. Have to...’ There was a long period of crackles, then the voice broke through the static again. ‘... hear me, Bones?’

‘Jim, I lost half your message,’ McCoy answered loudly.

‘... use hand communi...ors. Acknowledge.’

‘Yes, sir. Acknowledged.’

McCoy pulled his communicator from his belt and opened it. Spock reached to the small shelf beside his bed and found his still lying there. By now the staff in sickbay were well trained not to move things without telling him. He flipped it open and tuned in on the conversation.

‘Bones.’ The voice sounded slightly tinny through the communicator, but Spock could hear all the familiar background hums and clicks of the bridge. ‘Are you all right down there?’

‘Fine,’ McCoy said swiftly. ‘We’re damaged bad, aren’t we?’

‘Not as bad as it looks. I’ve had more systems turned off than are damaged. To the Klingons it’ll look like we’re ready for the scrapyard, but we can repair everything, given time.’

‘So who’s trying to kill us this time?’

‘It’s our old friend Kor.’

‘I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure, Jim,’ McCoy replied.

‘He headed the Klingon invasion of Organia. I’m sure you saw the reports.’

‘Ah yes, I remember. What does our sweet commander want?’

‘Bones. How’s Spock?’ Kirk asked, ignoring the question.

‘I don’t like the sound of this,’ the doctor said suspiciously. ‘He’s better, but very weak. He walked a little, earlier – staggered through to my office – but that tired him almost to the point of collapse. He’s been asleep for hours.’

‘I need him up here.’

‘Now wait just a damn minute!’ McCoy began, bristling with anger. ‘He’s not that much better. A few steps almost made him faint. He’s far too ill to be out of sickbay.’

‘You’ll have to find a way. What about his Vulcan stamina?’

‘Jim, if it wasn’t for his Vulcan stamina he’d be in a coma right now,’ McCoy said firmly. ‘Or dead. Spock’s Vulcan, not immortal. You can’t expect him to always be able to miraculously rise up from his sick bed to save your butt.’

‘Doctor, remember your rank,’ Kirk said tightly. ‘I need Spock – I don’t need to be insulted by you.’

‘Captain, I am the medical officer of this ship,’ McCoy replied harshly, his anger flaring. ‘And I have the rank to tell you that Spock will not be used like some kind of invulnerable robot when he is in my sickbay in his condition. I will not have him subjected to this kind of trauma.’

‘ _Bones!_ ’ Kirk said, then began again more softly, ‘Bones, I know how ill Spock is, but I really need him here. The safety of the ship depends on it.’

‘Cutting in if I may, Captain,’ Spock interrupted on his communicator. ‘I am intrigued at how the safety of the ship can depend on me?’

‘Spock!’ McCoy exclaimed in frustration, turning to the Vulcan. ‘Put that damn thing down. You need to be resting.’

‘I need to be speaking to Jim, Doctor,’ Spock said firmly. ‘Captain, please explain the problem.’

‘Okay, Spock,’ Kirk said gladly. It felt good to be talking to his first officer about ship matters again, rather than trying to engage in awkward bedside conversation with no real subject. ‘Kor wants us both on his ship, and he won’t say why until we are. I’ve told him how sick you are, but he thinks it’s a trick to leave you in command. He’s given me five minutes to show you on the bridge. If he doesn’t see you by that time he’ll destroy the ship. Our shields have failed – we don’t have the power to withstand another attack.’

‘Then I must come to the bridge,’ Spock said flatly.

‘You can’t, Spock!’ McCoy snapped, turning on him. ‘It’ll kill you!’

Spock sighed, steeling himself for an argument for which he didn’t have the strength. ‘Doctor, you are being intensely irritating. I can still sit in a chair, and I can still initiate thought. We haven’t much time. I shall die anyway, if the ship is destroyed. Even you can process that logic.’

McCoy resisted the urge to return the insult, and looked up at the monitor panel above Spock’s bed. The readings were low, but they were holding steady, and not below safety limits.

‘Okay, Spock,’ the doctor agreed reluctantly. ‘Jim, give me a minute, and he’ll be there.’

‘Thanks, Bones,’ Kirk said with relief. ‘This won’t take too long.’

‘You’re damn right it won’t. But you know Spock. Once he’s up there he’ll probably find some excuse to stay.’

Spock shook his head tiredly. ‘No, Doctor. I am going because the urgency of the situation demands it. After that I shall quite welcome a return to my bed.’

‘Good,’ McCoy grunted. ‘Now, do you want to go up in a chair?’

‘I can manage the short walk to the lift now I have rested. I doubt it will be quite as traumatic as you suggested.’

‘Okay, you can walk,’ McCoy agreed reluctantly. He could understand the Vulcan not wanting his first appearance on the bridge, and in front of Kor, to be being pushed in a wheelchair. He could have one fetched at the first sign that Spock needed it. He turned to see Chapel by the medicine cabinet, setting the instruments and phials back upright on their shelves. ‘Nurse. Get me a strong dose of cyaline.’

‘Aye, sir.’ She came over quickly, adjusting a hypo and handing it to the doctor.

Spock waited for the hypo hiss, then gathered together the energy the strong stimulant gave him. Slowly he stood, the nurse’s hand helping him, and felt McCoy wrapping a blanket around his shoulders.

‘Doctor, this is quite unnecessary,’ he objected.

‘You argue, and you’ll find yourself straight back in bed, Klingons or no. You need to keep warm, and it’ll make you look all the more ill for Kor. Nurse. You come with us and – Oh, God, Spock!’ he exclaimed, jumping forward. He quickly caught the Vulcan as he stumbled. Spock caught his breath, and forced himself to push aside the weakness and dizziness.

‘Jim must be out of his damn mind!’ the doctor muttered to himself. ‘Asking him to come on duty in this state!’

‘It is not duty. It was my own choice,’ Spock said flatly. ‘But – ’ He hesitated, then admitted, ‘I am apprehensive, Doctor.’

‘You’ll be fine,’ McCoy assured him. ‘If you don’t collapse before you get there. All you have to do is go up there and look sick – and believe me, that won’t be difficult.’ His arm was still around the Vulcan, holding him up, and he tightened it a little. ‘Spock, don’t worry,’ he said softly. ‘I know it must be hard – I’d be damn scared – but everyone up there cares about you. They’ll just be glad to see you.’

‘I know,’ Spock nodded, managing to make himself at least look calm. ‘Thank you, Doctor.’

McCoy patted his arm silently, then turned to the nurse.

‘Christine, take his other arm. You can set the pace, Spock. We’ll guide you, keep you steady.’

Spock nodded, but as he did his knees collapsed again, and McCoy half carried him back to sit on his bed.

‘Christine, get a chair,’ he sighed. ‘Don’t worry, Mr Spock,’ he said, eliminating all the roughness from his voice and replacing it with respect. ‘I’ll let you walk out of the lift if you can stand, I promise.’

Chapel fetched the chair quickly, and Spock sat in it with some relief. He hadn’t wanted to be seen blind and sitting in a wheelchair, but even sitting here with a blanket wrapped around him was more dignified than collapsing in front of everyone. McCoy picked up his emergency bag from his desk – just in case – then touched Spock on the shoulder.

‘Ready?’

‘Completely, Doctor,’ Spock said levelly. ‘I am anticipating meeting Kor again. He was an interesting man.’

 

There were mixed gasps of shock and delight as Spock stumbled down the steps to the lower floor of the bridge, guided carefully by the people either side of him. There was obvious happiness from those who hadn’t seen him since the accident happened, but they were all deeply shocked at the way their strong, invulnerable first officer leaned so heavily on the doctor and nurse, his face pale and strained, after being helped out of a wheelchair at the lift doors. Uhura got up from her chair the same moment that Chekov and Sulu spun around, wide grins on all their faces.

‘Velcome back, sir,’ Chekov said with deep feeling, glad to see Mr Spock at least upright, if not looking better.

‘It is good to see you, Mr Spock,’ Uhura told him earnestly, touching his shoulder with a firm, reassuring, but at the same time respectful hand. Spock tried to keep his composure and lift a cool eyebrow when her professionalism collapsed, and she hugged him tightly, planting a kiss on his cheek to hide a half-choked sob. ‘We’ve all missed you so much.’

‘Oh yes, sir,’ Sulu agreed. ‘The bridge doesn’t seem right without you here.’

Spock nodded in bewilderment at the confused noises around him, trying to ascertain where each voice came from, and which direction he was facing. His ears began to sing, and he leant harder on McCoy. He hadn’t expected so little exertion to be this taxing.

‘I must sit down,’ he said faintly.

He heard Jim’s voice. ‘He can sit here, Bones.’

The captain stepped aside from his big chair in the centre of the bridge, and Spock sank gratefully into it, shaking with tiredness. McCoy pulled the blanket up around his shoulders again, eyeing the Vulcan with worry.

‘Spock, I’m sorry you had to do this,’ Jim’s voice said warmly.

‘How touching.’

Spock stiffened as he heard the voice of Kor. He had not realised that he was observing the reunion.

‘Just as your time was running out, Captain,’ Kor continued. ‘But your first officer is over acting.’

‘It’s no act,’ McCoy stated plainly. ‘If he looks terrible it’s because he feels terrible.’

‘And you have done a good job with the eyes,’ Kor continued, ignoring the doctor. ‘The way he holds them so still, devoid of knowledge.’ He leant so his face filled the entire screen, studying Spock’s empty brown eyes and smiling knowingly.

‘Mr Spock is blind,’ Kirk said coldly. ‘He’s not acting. A Vulcan cannot lie. You know that.’

‘Playing a role is not lying, Captain Kirk. And Mr Spock lied effectively enough to our mind scanner on Organia. He managed to convince it that he was a simple merchant.’

‘He is not lying,’ Kirk snapped angrily. ‘I wish to God he was, but he’s not.’

Spock pushed through the feeling of faintness and sickness to speak, hoping to convince the Klingon quickly and just be allowed to return to his bed in sickbay, instead of becoming the object of prolonged arguments.

‘I assure you, Commander Kor,’ he said firmly. ‘I cannot see your face, I cannot see my captain, I cannot see the room I sit in – I can see nothing about me but darkness. Neither can I see why you should disbelieve that fact.’

‘I don’t trust you, or anything you say,’ Kor said tightly. ‘He will beam to my ship with you, Captain Kirk.’

‘Cossack!’

Spock heard the word muttered from somewhere in front of him, definitely in the Russian tones of Chekov.

‘He’s too ill to go beaming around the galaxy,’ McCoy retorted furiously. ‘He should be in sickbay right now.’

‘Keep your doctor under control, or I shall destroy the ship here and now,’ Kor said calmly. Like a snake contemplating its dinner, the doctor thought. Hungry, but always, always in cool control. This Klingon had the suavity of a Romulan.

Kirk fumed silently. ‘The Organia Peace Treaty – ’ he began with authority.

‘Does not have your ship one step away from annihilation,’ Kor pointed out. ‘I shall destroy you if I have to. I promise you that.’

‘Jim, you can’t take Spock over there,’ McCoy said again.

‘Bones, please,’ said Kirk, turning to his friend.

‘At least let me go with him,’ McCoy said directly to the screen. ‘If he collapses he’ll need treatment, and I’ll bet your doctors know nothing about Vulcan physiology. It’s certain they don’t know a Vulcan-Human’s hybrid physiology.’

‘True,’ Kor agreed slowly. ‘And I want him alive. But not you, Doctor. The nurse by the Vulcan’s side will come.’

McCoy glanced at Spock. He had closed his eyes now, and gave every impression of being asleep, but the doctor was sure he was listening intently to every word spoken.

‘I want to speak to my crew,’ Kirk said firmly.

‘You have a minute.’

Kirk turned to Uhura at the communications console.

‘Sound off,’ he mouthed to her.

She silently moved a finger to cut all sound to the Klingon ship. Kirk pressed the intercom switch on the arm of his chair, turning his back to the main screen.

‘Engine rooms. Scotty. It’s Kirk here.’

‘Aye, Captain?’ came Scott’s voice from the intercom.

‘Scotty, Spock and I have to beam over to the Klingon ship. We – ’

‘Mr Spock?’ Scotty interrupted incredulously. ‘He’s hardly well enough to stand. I’ve seen him myself – ’

‘I’ve been through all that with Bones. Nurse Chapel is coming to look after him. Meanwhile, you’re in command. I’ve made Kor think we’re damaged beyond repair, but I want you to fix this ship. Repair the engines and get power for the shields. Those are the priorities. When you have warp drive and full shields, scan the Klingon ship for our life-signs and beam us aboard, then warp out immediately.’

‘Sir,’ Scott broke in. ‘That might take a few hours...’

‘Make it less. And if it’s plain there is no escape, then destroy the ship rather than let the Klingons get hold of it, or destroy the Klingon ship. Is that clear, Scotty?’

‘Aye, sir,’ the engineer said sadly. ‘Clear as a bell.’

‘Kor’s getting impatient, sir,’ Uhura reminded Kirk, glancing at the screen.

McCoy was handing his emergency medical kit to the nurse. ‘And don’t let those Klingon doctors lay one filthy hand on Spock,’ he told her. ‘They’d do him more harm than good. That goes for any of you that gets hurt.’

‘If they have doctors,’ she muttered. ‘Don’t they believe if you’re ill you should die?’

‘Maybe, but they’re not stupid enough to risk all their crew getting sick without someone to treat them. Just keep any doctors away from him.’

‘Yes, Doctor,’ she nodded gravely. ‘I’ll look after Mr Spock. I promise.’

‘Don’t let him get cold, either,’ he warned her. ‘Not in his weakened condition. With the temperature of the Klingon homeworld, their ship’s bound to be chilly. And the contrast with Vulcan’s temperature – ’

‘I know, sir,’ she said tolerantly.

‘Good luck then, Christine,’ he said quietly. ‘And you, Jim. And Spock.’

‘Thanks, Bones,’ Kirk smiled. ‘Uhura, put the sound back on.’

‘Aye, sir.’

Spock heard the familiar bleeping noises from the communications board, then Kor.

‘Are you quite ready, Captain?’

‘Quite ready,’ Kirk smiled back, equally courteous. ‘We’re on our way to the transporter room now. Then maybe you will explain the unprovoked attack on my ship, and why you want us?’

‘When you are on _my_ ship, Captain Kirk. Then I shall explain.’

The screen snapped off, returning to the regular star patterns. Kirk eyed the Klingon ship hovering in the distance with cold loathing, wondering what would happen next.

‘Are you awake, Spock?’ he asked the Vulcan, noticing his closed eyes.

‘Yes, sir,’ he replied. ‘Only a little tired.’

‘Kor’s gone,’ the captain said in a hushed voice. ‘I guess we’d better get to the transporter. Can you walk to the elevator?’

Spock opened his eyes slowly. He was sure he had never felt so tired, but he nodded at Kirk’s question. ‘I should think so, Captain. I managed some little rest while the gentleman was speaking.’

‘Gentleman! Huh!’ McCoy snorted, bouncing on his toes angrily.

‘Bones. You’re coming to the transporter room with us,’ Kirk ordered. ‘Ready?’

‘I suppose so,’ he said reluctantly. ‘I think I’ve told Christine all she needs to know.’

Kirk worked a hand under Spock’s arm and helped him to stand. McCoy promptly took the other arm as the Vulcan swung around, off balance.

‘Jim, I don’t know if he can walk,’ the doctor muttered to Kirk anxiously.

‘I can, Captain,’ Spock argued. ‘I just need to – find my feet. It seems a little difficult to balance.’

‘It will do,’ McCoy informed him. ‘Apart from how weak and unsteady you are, you use your eyes to help you balance.’

‘I know that. I think I have a little more experience of blindness than you.’

‘You haven’t read up on it like I have.’

‘I cannot read,’ Spock snapped uncharacteristically. Everyone on the bridge turned at the noise. ‘I think that is the point, Doctor. I am doing the first-hand research.’

‘Does everything have to be a damn experiment with you, even blindness?’ McCoy blew up, suddenly reverting to his usual style of communication with Spock after two weeks of biting his tongue. ‘This isn’t a damn test you can quit when you’ve had enough.’

‘Bones, leave him alone,’ Kirk warned McCoy quietly.

Spock was silent, instead of coming back with the usual smooth, clever rejoinder. Kirk wished he could still see the messages Spock always sent through his eyes, instead of just walled-up pupils. His face said nothing, but Kirk knew how hard it must be for the Vulcan who had always had knowledge at his fingertips, to suddenly not be able to pick up a book and know what was written on the pages.

‘I’m sorry, Spock,’ McCoy said, shamefaced. ‘I didn’t mean any of that. You know what I’m like.’

‘Bones really wasn’t trying to hurt you, Spock,’ Kirk smiled.

‘I know that,’ Spock sighed. ‘This is a little – unsettling. But may we go to the lift? I can’t stand like this for much longer.’

‘Of course. I’m sorry.’

They hurried him to the lift, and as soon as the doors closed Spock sank into the wheelchair in complete exhaustion. His forehead was tight and tense, and he pressed shaking hands to his temples.

‘Jim, you have to look after him over there,’ McCoy said firmly. ‘He’s shaking all over, and I know he’s got a thumping headache. I gave him a full dose of the strongest stimulant I’ve got, and he still almost fainted.’

 

Spock sat tiredly on the steps to the transporter, trying to take in the conversation around him. Kirk was telling Scott that it was quite possible they wouldn’t return, and in that case they should try to get to the nearest starbase for assistance. Then he was saying he would make sure the nurse was returned, and he heard her protest angrily, saying she’d be the only one over there who could look after Mr Spock.

There were brief goodbyes, then Kirk stood on one panel while Spock stood swaying on another. Chapel held him up with her arm around his waist, squeezed onto the same circular terminal. The transporter whirred, and the figures turned to shimmering gold, dispersing into space.


	5. Chapter 5

Spock stumbled as they rematerialised in the Klingon ship. He couldn’t remember the beaming process inducing such a feeling of nausea before, or inducing what had to be hallucinations – a brief vision of the back wall of the transporter room. He wondered if it was affecting the others, but he could sense nothing unusual in them.

‘Are you all right, Spock?’ Kirk asked, concerned. He’d seen how grey the Vulcan’s face had turned, and grabbed his arm quickly. ‘Don’t pass out, Spock,’ he murmured.

He gently lowered Spock to sit on the edge of the strange, angular transporter platform, and made him hang his head between his knees. He was glad to see a little colour returning to the cheeks.

‘Nurse?’ he asked.

‘Probably the beaming process, combined with the physical exertion. The disorientation should settle down soon, Mr Spock,’ she promised. ‘Beaming into darkness is always upsetting.’

‘I feel I am in a void,’ he said quietly.

‘You’re in a small transporter room,’ she told him. ‘Listen.’ She clapped her hands sharply. ‘Can you hear the echoes coming back quickly?’

‘I – think I could,’ he nodded, and automatically attuned a part of his mind to listen out for the returns of such noises.

‘Come.’

Kirk looked up into the face of a pretty, brown eyed Klingon woman, obviously the transporter operator.

‘One moment,’ he asked, smiling at her. ‘The transportation made my First Officer ill.’

The woman snorted and took hold of Spock’s arms, lifting him easily. The Vulcan stiffened with obvious distaste at the woman’s touch.

‘Captain – ’

‘He can walk with my help,’ Kirk told the dark woman.

She dumped Spock unceremoniously on the floor and Kirk helped him stand. The Vulcan felt his knees buckle weakly and his stomach turned, but he strengthened himself and staggered forward, his arms around his companions’ shoulders.

 

Kirk followed the Klingon woman into Kor’s office. The doors closed sharply behind them, giving him the sensation of being totally trapped. But he knew that on the  _Enterprise_ they were being monitored every step they took. Scott knew exactly where they were. He looked around the large room quickly, searching for a chair. Kor sat behind a wide desk, still with the smile on his face of one who knows a lot more than you do. With relief Kirk saw one solitary, high-backed chair on the near side of the desk, and began to guide the exhausted Spock carefully to it.

‘I haven’t said you can sit, Captain,’ Kor told him quietly.

‘I don’t want to sit.’ He strengthened his grip on the Vulcan, feeling him slumping. ‘For God’s sake, Kor. Let him sit down.’

‘I’m all right, Captain,’ Spock said, his voice nearing a whisper.

‘You are not all right. You’re white as a sheet.’ He fixed his glare on Kor again. ‘Let the man sit down before he faints.’

Kor gazed at the Vulcan’s face for a few seconds, then nodded. ‘Take him to the chair, then.’

Kirk half walked, half carried Spock to the chair, and the Vulcan almost fell onto the seat in his relief to sit down.

‘D’you think he’s acting now?’ Kirk snarled at the Klingon.

‘Maybe not.’

Spock kept his face composed, but he couldn’t help feeling some logical apprehension. He had experience of how smoothly dangerous Kor could be, coupled with the threat of the mind scanner he possessed. The machine had ripped and torn at every private thought and feeling in his mind on Organia, torturing him in nightmares for months afterwards. He didn’t think he could take that this time, in his weakened condition. It would kill him to resist the deep probing – or just send him irreversibly insane, so the rest of his life would...

A hand on his shoulder shook him from the painful recollections. He realised the thoughts had turned into the beginnings of a dream, and he blinked, trying to push away the exhausting sleepiness with mental disciplines.

‘Mr Spock.’ Christine was bending over him in front of his chair. ‘Are you all right? Do you need another stimulant?’

He nodded. He couldn’t have been asleep for more than a second or two.

‘That would be wise,’ he said solemnly.

She looked into his still eyes with sadness as she prepared the injection. There had always been such life and curiosity in them. Now he just looked so tired. She gave him the shot quickly, then stood up with her hands on the back of the chair, staring intently at the Klingon before her.

Feeling more alert as the stimulant pushed through his veins, Spock put his mind to the task of analysing everything he heard in the room, to evaluate the situation. He knew he couldn’t be much help to Kirk physically, but at least he could offer his advice and knowledge to his captain.

Kor turned to the transporter chief, who still stood like a carved statue by the doors.

‘Lieutenant Kyri. Bring chairs for our other guests,’ he ordered. ‘They may as well be comfortable before they’re transferred to the security cells. Then you may leave.’

‘Thank you, I’ll stand,’ Chapel said crisply. She kept her firm hold of Spock’s seat, standing like a watchdog behind him.

‘I think last time we met we parted on cordial terms, Captain,’ Kor said quietly.

‘Only because the Organians wouldn’t let us fight,’ Kirk replied grimly.

‘They were fools. But we both agreed that they were interfering in a war which was not theirs. Your science officer was too busy analysing the Organian people to take notice.’

‘I am able to concentrate on more than one subject at a time.’ Spock told him flatly.

‘As any good science officer should. You are an efficient man, Mr Spock.’

Spock bowed his head in stiff acknowledgement to the compliment. ‘I endeavour to be efficient.’

‘You were quite a warrior then,’ Kor continued. ‘I admired your performance on Organia – and now you must be led by the hand. I do feel sorry for you, Vulcan. Maybe now you’ll have to fall back on your pretence of being a trader. It must be hard to study science without the help of your eyes.’

‘It may be, but this is all completely irrelevant,’ Spock said shortly

He closed his eyes in exhaustion, slumping a little more in the chair. Kirk glanced at his ashen face and knew Spock was near to collapse, even with the stimulants in his bloodstream.

‘Spock needs to rest,’ Kirk said softly, trying to be diplomatic for his friend’s sake. A chair was placed behind him and he sat down automatically, eyes fixed on the Klingon’s face. ‘Let him go back to my ship.’

Kor straightened up, suddenly angry. ‘Captain, I don’t care about your first officer’s welfare. I don’t care about you. You can stop pretending you are so innocent. I want to know what this weapon is, and whose technology allows you to do it? I know the Federation isn’t this advanced.’

‘I have no idea what you’re talking about,’ Kirk said honestly. ‘If you’ve brought us here, endangered my first officer’s life just to ramble about Klingon paranoia – ’

‘You know exactly what I’m talking about,’ Kor cut in. ‘Klingon officers are disappearing, Klingon crewmen are disappearing, through our raised shields, through all our defences. I want to know what you are doing – I want to know how you dare to breach the peace treaty in such a dishonourable way.’

‘Even if we knew of such a weapon, what makes you suppose we should let you know what it is?’ Spock asked, managing to raise a questioning eyebrow even though his eyes were closed.

‘Because if you do not, you will die, or worse. You are killing our people, and I will not allow it.’

Kirk was mildly surprised at how worked up this usually smooth and calm Klingon was getting, but completely bemused at his claims. Would Starfleet ever use a weapon like the one Kor was describing, in secret? He wasn’t sure.

‘The Federation would not breach the Organian peace treaty,’ Spock said simply, and the surety in his voice helped to settle Kirk’s doubts. ‘It would not be logical, it would not be profitable, it would not be sane to provoke full-scale war with the Klingon Empire.’

‘Kor, we’re not about to start sneaking your officers off your ships,’ Kirk echoed Spock’s sentiments. ‘If we wanted to destroy you, we would build warships and we would fire on you. But we won’t, because the Federation values peace. There’s too much at stake to start a war.’

‘Yes, so you collude with the Romulans, copy their cloaking devices, sneak into our territory and beam our people off our ships with some new technology that lets you reach through our shields. No war, no shots fired, no open conflict – very clever,’ Kor said in a bitter tone.

‘Have you ever thought that your troops might be deserting you, Kor?’ Kirk asked sarcastically. ‘Maybe they’re fed up of military dictatorship and brutal law.’

‘Deserting?’

Kor stood up and banged a fist on the desk. Spock jumped a little at the noise. The Klingon’s calm exterior seemed to hide a true Klingon temper.

‘Deserting, to end up back on our decks cut open, dying of blood loss, or having committed ritual suicide, their own blades still in their hearts? Say what you like about us, human, but we are warriors, not cowards. When we kill, we kill facing our enemies, we kill them with their hands still holding their weapons, not tied behind their backs. We don’t sneak about under shields of invisibility, spiriting our enemies away and stabbing them in the back, or driving them to suicide.’

‘Neither do we,’ Kirk said simply.

The Klingon was obviously telling the truth about his men – no one could get that worked up over a lie.

‘Kor, I don’t know what this weapon is,’ he continued. ‘It doesn’t belong to the Federation, but I expect the Federation will be just as worried about unexplained disappearances, and will investigate. Now will you let us go before the peace treaty really is shattered?’

‘You expect me to just take your word? If this weapon isn’t yours, why is it only happening near the neutral zone, near Federation territory? Why aren’t _your_ men disappearing?’

Kirk slipped a glance at Spock. He seemed to be almost asleep. How could he be so relaxed with Kor ranting in front of him? But the Klingon did have a point. He had heard no reports of Starfleet officers disappearing – but neither had he heard reports or rumours of new weapons.

‘I can’t say anything to convince you,’ he shrugged. ‘And you can’t do anything to prove it. We have a stalemate.’

‘No, we don’t. You will tell me what this weapon is. It will be well worth your while to co-operate.’

‘I don’t know what opinion you have of me, but I can’t be bribed.’

‘Every man has his price.’

‘Not when that man doesn’t have an answer. How can I tell you what this weapon is? I don’t know what it is,’ he protested. ‘Would you rather I lied, and told you it was us, made up statistics and details about how this weapon is made?’

‘Believe me, Captain, I am sure you would do anything, even lie, rather than watch these two put through the agony of Klingon torture, and finally our mind scanner. If you don’t tell me the truth, I shall find it in these people’s minds, in your mind. Commander Spock is already blind. Would you like to see him deaf too, mutilated, and reduced to a helpless, insane, babbling idiot, to waste his life in one of your Starfleet’s hospitals? Would you like to see this clever woman in the same condition? Would you like to be in the same position yourself? Quick, painless death is a much more inviting prospect.’

‘And if I told you about this weapon you think we have?’

‘I would be quite within my rights to kill all of you.’

Spock became alert for a second to murmur, ‘Jim, you cannot agree,’ then he closed his eyes again and let his head rest back in the chair.

Kirk swallowed. He realised Spock didn’t know if this weapon was real or not. He was sure it wasn’t, but Spock only knew that he had been ill and intermittently unconscious for two weeks, and he didn’t know what was going on. But Kirk knew how much the threat of the mind scanner would have alarmed Spock had he been awake and clear-headed. The agony of insanity would far surpass any physical pain that a Vulcan could be put through. Chapel’s face had paled a little, but still held the determined look of refusal to give in. She didn’t know if the weapon was real either. He took a deep breath and shook his head.

‘I can’t tell you what I don’t know, and neither can Commander Spock. And even if there was a weapon, the nurse would know nothing about it. Let her go, and let Spock go, and we’ll talk.’

‘The mind scanner works far better than talking. Come, Captain,’ Kor said with a patronising smile. ‘Your Vulcan is blind. How much use is he to you now anyway? You know he can’t be a useful science officer now, or a useful soldier. If he had not had the sense of honour to commit suicide, we of the Klingon fleet would have sent him out to freeze in space with the rubbish. There is no point in feeding and housing a useless piece of chattel that can barely walk alone.’

Kirk clenched his fists on the arms of the chair. He was glad for once to see Spock’s face had paled even further, the muscles relaxed in sleep. Chapel’s expression was openly furious, one hand unconsciously clenched over the Vulcan’s shoulder.

‘Commander, we base our assessment of our crewmembers on the abilities of their minds, not their bodies,’ Kirk said through gritted teeth, fuming at the way Kor had spoken about the Vulcan. ‘And if you ever say anything like that while Spock can hear you, I promise I will personally knock your head off, because if you’re going to kill me anyway, it doesn’t really matter what I do beforehand. Mr Spock is still a perfectly competent officer, and he will continue to be so until the day he dies.’

‘Which you must pray will be very soon, unless you would rather take care of a vegetable for the rest of his pitiful existence.’ He laughed quietly. ‘I can see that my Empire will soon take your Federation, Captain, if your idea of a competent officer is a blind man who falls asleep in his chair. I still do respect your friend’s mind, Captain, but it does seem to be housed in a useless body.’

‘Mr Spock is exhausted. Too exhausted to cope with this pointless charade. I don’t know who’s taking your men, and I really don’t care. I can’t tell you anything because I don’t know anything.’

‘We’ll see if time will help you remember,’ the Klingon said smoothly, pressing a buzzer on his desk. ‘I give you six hours to consider my offer. If you still refuse, then my mind scanner will make sure you, your first officer and his nurse return to your ship little better than wild animals. All you will understand is life and death, pain and terror, if that. Take them,’ he snapped to the security men who had arrived at the door.

Spock was jerked out of sleep by hands pulling him to his feet, and he was roughly held by two stocky Klingons. The same happened to the nurse and Captain Kirk. Spock was pushed from the room harshly, not knowing how long he had slept, not sure where he was.

‘Captain!’ he called. ‘Are you with me?’

‘Yes. We’re coming, Spock.’ He shrugged the hands off his top and turned back to Kor. ‘You could tell them to lay off,’ he protested. ‘We haven’t anywhere to escape to and we’re not going to try. My first officer’s too ill for that.’

Kor snapped a short, guttural word in Klingon and the men reluctantly withdrew their hands. Kirk went to Spock quickly to support him.

‘Are you all right?’

‘Shaken only,’ the Vulcan replied, but he sounded distant to Kirk. ‘Is the nurse unhurt?’

‘She’s fine.’ He beckoned to Miss Chapel. She stepped across the room and touched Spock on the arm.

‘I’m here, Mr Spock.’

‘We’d better get you to sit down quickly,’ the captain said to Spock. ‘You can walk?’

‘Yes, sir, of course.’

Then the Vulcan’s face turned sheet white, and he crumpled onto the ground. Kirk sighed very quietly, and crouched to ease his arms gently under the limp body.

 

Kirk sat near the door of a small, dimly lit Klingon cell, watching Chapel as she bent over Spock. The Vulcan was stretched out unmoving on a narrow, shelf-like bed along the wall, paler than Kirk had ever seen him before. The nurse folded the sickbay blanket back over him, then stood up and turned around to face the captain.

‘He’s not in danger, but he’s totally exhausted,’ she said seriously. ‘He’ll be asleep for a few hours.’

‘Good. He needs the rest.’

She walked softly over to Kirk. ‘Captain, has the Federation got a new weapon?’

‘If we have one, I don’t know anything about it.’

She looked at the floor for a moment. ‘Then we can’t do anything. We can’t tell them anything, and they won’t find anything out from their scans.’

Kirk shrugged. ‘We’ve got some time, at least. I could invent some story, and we’d probably get a quick, painless death. Or say nothing.’

Chapel looked at Spock. ‘He wants so much to see. Do you think he’d want to die never having had the chance, the time, to find out if something could cure him, to find out if his body can fight back?’

‘I’m not sure he much cares about his life at the moment. But at least if we say nothing, we won’t be dead.’

‘And there might be a chance for rehabilitation after we’re put through the mind scanner. Maybe Mr Spock can resist it. He resisted it last time, didn’t he?’ she began hopefully.

‘It wasn’t on full power. He had the strength to block it then. He won’t this time.’

‘I see,’ the nurse said lamely, sinking tiredly onto a hard chair.

Kirk shrugged, and began searching the blank walls with his eyes. He didn’t really expect to find a way to escape, but there was no harm in trying.

 


	6. Chapter 6

Spock felt and smelled the slippery red blood spreading over his hands again, felt the flames burning his body, felt the ensign dying again. And again, there was nothing he could do. He just wanted to change the ending, to save the man’s life. Then the heart slowed to a flutter, and stopped. Suddenly the face he was blinded to was Jim’s, frozen in an expression of pain and fear, white in death, and there was nothing he could do...

Spock sat bolt upright on his bed, shaking, cold with sweat and terrified. The world spun, making his stomach heave.

‘Jim?’ he cried, in a panic. ‘Jim! Jim!’

He grabbed out wildly, and both of Kirk’s hands held his firmly, warm and alive.

‘I’m here.’ Kirk gently lay him down again, eyeing the Vulcan’s pale face with worry. It always hurt to see that look of terror on the face so unaccustomed to emotion. ‘It’s okay.’

He closed his eyes tightly, clinging onto Kirk’s hands while the bunk slowly settled down underneath him.

‘It’s okay,’ Kirk promised, tightening his grip. ‘It was only a dream. You’re all right.’

‘I know. I know that now.’

Spock unlocked his hands from Kirk’s, taking a deep breath, determined to push away the wild fear of losing Jim as well as his eyesight. He rubbed his palm along the hard edge of the bed, then folded his arm back over his body. He took a moment to draw in another deep breath, listening to his surroundings, letting that reality steady him. It sounded and smelt like the empty, little-used bowels of a ship, where any footsteps sounded hollow and echoing.

‘We’re on the lower decks, aren’t we?’

‘Yes, we are – in a cell.’ By now Kirk was too used to Spock simply knowing things to ask how he did. He was a Vulcan, and Vulcans always knew everything. ‘Do you remember passing out?’

‘Yes, of course, sir.’

Spock let his breath out with a sigh, and relaxed. He began to sit up again, but a swirling feeling of disorientation warned him not to.

‘I thought Mr Scott might have finished the repairs by now.’

‘He has a lot to do. The ship was in pretty bad shape. How long has it been? Kor gave us six hours to think about his offer.’

‘It’s been four hours, forty-six minutes since I fainted.’

‘We don’t have long then. What do you think about his claims, Spock?’

‘I think he is very angry, but rather misguided.’ He paused, listening carefully. ‘Is the nurse with us?’

‘Yes – she’s asleep. You should try to get some more rest. You’re still off-colour.’

‘I am quite recovered,’ Spock said, but he didn’t try to move. ‘Jim, what does the cell look like? Would you describe it?’

Kirk glanced around the gloomy room, than back at Spock. He could see the black cells over his pupils, but it always seemed odd that he could see nothing when there was light everywhere and his eyes were wide open.

‘You don’t want to know, Spock,’ he shrugged.

‘I do want to know, sir,’ he corrected his captain. ‘I am blind – I need your input.’

‘I’m sorry, Spock – of course you do. It’s typical Klingon style – only the bare essentials. A few seats, one bed, a bucket and a tap in the wall. The walls are dark grey. There’s a lighting panel in the ceiling, a force field door – it’s all very standard.’

‘I see. Not a very pleasant situation.’

‘No.’

‘Jim, what do _I_ look like, after the accident?’

Kirk stared at his face, surprised at the question. ‘There’s no disfigurement, Spock,’ he said. ‘We’ve told you that.’

The Vulcan made a small, impatient gesture with his hand. ‘I know that, Jim, but – I know my eyes must look different.’

‘They look a little sore, and you can see the cells if you look hard, but they don’t really look different. You’re pale, and your face is thinner, but there are no scars. You do look very weak and tired.’

‘I seem to look how I feel.’ He stayed quiet for a moment, then said seriously, ‘Jim, if I – if we all survive this, I am going to need your help. I have to accept that my sight loss is permanent, and I know I shall need the help of my friends to regain the independence I had previously enjoyed.’

Kirk gripped hold of his friend’s hand. ‘You’ve got that.’

Spock pulled away slightly. ‘I shall need you to remember that my mind is undamaged,’ he said levelly. ‘I cannot see to walk, to put my hand to objects, even to read or write, but I can still think and reason, I have not suddenly become fragile and insensible. I do not need to be pitied or wrapped in cotton wool, I simply need help and instruction until I can do all these things alone as I always have.’

‘I’ll try to help you, Spock, as long as you promise to tell me if I cross the line.’

‘Of course I shall, Captain. Thank you. Now,’ he said, breaking the solemn mood. ‘I expect there is no point in trying to escape – we would be recaptured in a moment, and by infuriating Kor we would more likely shorten our time than lengthen it.’

‘You’re probably right.’

‘I have assumed so far that this weapon is not of Federation origin, although I wasn’t totally sure,’ Spock began.

‘I haven’t heard of it, so unless it’s a very secret project, I’d agree it’s not Starfleet. I think it’s just another paranoid Klingon fantasy.’

‘Captain, I think you’re being premature,’ Spock said doubtfully. ‘Kor sounded very serious – and if it is a non-Federation weapon, there is the risk of attack on our people. It could be Romulan, with their cloaking devices, or some other kind of cloaked ship. Whatever it is, if they can come and go so silently and invisibly, we must view it as a threat.’

‘I guess so – but we can’t do anything about it while we’re in here.’

‘No, we can’t.’ Spock sat up, very slowly this time, trying not to let the spinning sickness overwhelm him. He swung his legs off the bed slowly, and Kirk reached out a hand to his arm.

‘Spock, be careful,’ he said anxiously.

‘I am all right.’ He stood slowly and put a hand to the wall to steady himself, then walked towards the hum of the force field door.

‘Don’t touch it,’ Kirk said quickly, half standing up. ‘It’s on the highest setting.’

‘I wasn’t going to touch it – I am listening to the noises outside. Did you know we have a guard?’

‘I couldn’t see one,’ Kirk said, going to look out of the door quickly.

‘Is there a corner or some kind of partition?’

‘There’s a corner just along the corridor.’

‘I can hear movement, and feel mind emanations – obviously they are trying to keep a discreet guard, so that we may give something away by thinking we are alone.’

‘Can you tell anything from the mind emanations?’

Spock closed his eyes, concentrating his mind. After a moment he shook his head. ‘Just boredom, Captain – deep boredom, and maybe hunger.’

Kirk laughed. ‘Glad to see we’re contributing to the crew’s happiness,’ he said lightly. He looked back at Spock’s face. ‘Spock, sit down,’ he told him.

Spock turned around slowly, and went back to sit on the bed without arguing. They sat in silence for a long time, waiting silently. Finally, Kirk leaned forward to touch Spock’s hand.

‘Spock, I’m sorry,’ he said softly.

‘For what?’ he asked.

‘You – know that the mind scanner might kill you, in your condition. You shouldn’t be here – I should have made Kor let you stay on the ship. There’s no need for you to die.’

‘I am quite ready to die, Jim,’ Spock said gently. ‘I am sorry that you and Nurse Chapel will suffer, but you need not worry on my account.’

‘Spock, of course I’ll worry. You’re – ’

‘Jim, someone is coming,’ Spock broke in. ‘You should wake the nurse.’

‘I’m awake, Mr Spock,’ Chapel’s voice answered as she opened her eyes. ‘I just didn’t say anything. I was trying to imagine myself somewhere else.’

‘I would like another stimulant,’ he asked. ‘I want my mind to be alert.’

‘Yes, sir,’ she smiled sadly, and gave him another dose of the strong drug.

Kirk looked back from the cell door. He had just seen six burly Klingons turn the corner, clad in grey and green clothes that looked like armour, all with disrupters at their hips.

‘There’s six of them, and Kor,’ he told Spock. ‘There’s no point in fighting them.’

‘I cannot fight,’ Spock said steadily. ‘And I certainly wouldn’t advise you and the nurse to take on six Klingons.’

The marching stopped just outside the door, and Commander Kor approached the force field. ‘Drop the field,’ he said, without looking at his guards. ‘I’m not afraid of them attacking me.’ The field shimmered, and disappeared, and three of the guards marched into the cell to stand behind the prisoners. ‘Are you ready to tell me about this weapon, Kirk?’

‘I don’t know anything, so I can’t tell you anything,’ Kirk said calmly. ‘None of us can,’ he added, as he saw Kor’s gaze wander to Spock and Chapel.

‘Then I’ll have to find out without your consent.’ Kor smiled. One of his guards pulled Spock to his feet and put a sturdy crutch in his hand. ‘I brought a stick for your friend to lean on. Don’t guide him,’ he snapped quickly, as Kirk moved towards the Vulcan. ‘He has ears to follow us with.’

‘He needs help,’ Kirk said through gritted teeth. ‘He’s exhausted.’

‘Good. I want him tired. I want his mind to open easily, to fall apart like a decaying flower, Kirk, not like a granite rock.’

‘Jim, I am fine,’ Spock told him quietly, moving forward with effort. He knew that his slow progress would at least buy them more time.

As he stumbled slightly, Chapel’s face coloured, and she stepped forward to help him.

‘Sir – ’

‘Christine, don’t,’ Spock said, at the same moment that a guard pulled her back roughly.

He moved forward slowly – he could hear the cluster of guards around him, and there wasn’t much chance of taking a step in the wrong direction without a hand shoving him back. It seemed to be miles along the corridors, with a brief rest in an elevator, then more corridors. Finally a door opened and closed, and he sank into the chair he was taken to with a grateful sigh.

‘Is he tired enough for you?’ Kirk asked bitterly.

‘I think so,’ Kor replied seriously.

‘You know it’s going to kill him?’

Spock recognised the feel of the chair he was in at the same moment that restraints were closed over his arms and legs. He hadn’t realised that the others were meant to watch the mind scanner killing him. There was a sudden struggle, Jim’s voice exclaiming angrily, then silence again.

‘Jim, I have no fear of death,’ he said levelly – he didn’t say anything about his deep-rooted fear of insanity, of being locked into his body not only by darkness, but by madness as well.

The discs were lowered down either side of his head, and he closed his eyes as the first pain began. His voice was beginning to babble, revealing layers of his thoughts. He had forgotten how humiliating this kind of treatment was, his whole body taken over by the machine, no control over his speech, his body functions, over anything. He hoped to be unconscious very soon – until he remembered that the scanner kept the mind very conscious indeed. There was already the odd tingling feeling through his body as all his nerves were stimulated, hallucinations made him see six angry Klingons all pointing their disrupters, beams lancing out through the air. Then the chair seemed to dissolve underneath him, the darkness reappeared, and he fell through the chair seat onto the floor. Had it been somehow disintegrated by the weapons?

The floor he was lying on was slightly warm, and textured, not cold and flat like the interrogation room had been. It was quiet, the smell was clean and familiar. Then suddenly there was movement, he was lifted onto a bed – no – a stretcher, and covered with soft blankets.

Kirk’s voice snapped out the orders, ‘Scotty. Warp speed, now.’

They were on the  _Enterprise_ , and the hands that were touching him were McCoy’s.

‘We already have warp speed, sir,’ Scott answered from up on the bridge, then gleefully, ‘My little beauties.’

Spock knew this remark was addressed to the engines, not to any of the people in the room here.

‘Spock?’

His head felt as if it was splitting apart, as if the crack the mind scanner had made was still open. He knew the headache would go in a few days, but for now it was overwhelming.

‘Spock!’

‘I am fine, Doctor,’ he said with some relief. He could still talk, still hear, still reason and control his movements. ‘My head aches intensely,’ he added. ‘Jim, is everyone uninjured?’

He heard Kirk asking Scotty something about the ship, and then McCoy said, ‘Everyone’s fine, Spock. I’ve got to get you back to sickbay.’

‘I should make a report,’ Spock said, struggling to keep his head up, but a hypo hissed, and suddenly he was asleep.

‘How is he, Bones?’ Kirk asked, turning to look at the unconscious Vulcan. ‘He was only in the mind scanner for a few seconds.’

‘I don’t know yet,’ McCoy said. ‘But he seems coherent. I think he’s just exhausted.’

 

Kirk began to walk into sickbay, but halted in the office, eavesdropping on the welcome sound of Dr McCoy and his first officer in mid-conflict. Spock and McCoy were in the long ward, Spock propped up in bed by pillows, and McCoy sat on a chair beside him. Spock held a piece of card in his hand, running his fingers over it slowly.

‘No, Spock,’ McCoy was saying patiently. ‘That’s a W, not D. It changes the meaning of the whole sentence.’

‘I have not managed to glean any meaning at all so far, Doctor. How now brown cod,’ Spock spelled out. ‘Why should one wish to speak to a fish? When you said you would help me learn Braille I barely thought I would have to read such total nonsense.’

‘I couldn’t think of anything else at the time.’

‘There is a library full of ideas. Byron, Shakespeare, Wordsworth, Chaucer, T’Qal, Salek.’

‘Spock, I can’t even read Chaucer, let alone teach you Braille with it, and all the Salek on this ship is written in old Vulcan. I – found a school reader in the storeroom. I thought simple things with repeating letters might help you learn them.’

‘Something that would interest me might help me learn.’

‘Spock, you know I don’t know anything about rehabilitation for the blind. I’ve tried to learn through books, but I’m not qualified. Maybe you’d be better waiting until you’re well enough to go to that training place.’

‘I cannot wait that long. You are not a perfect teacher, McCoy, but I could not bear to remain illiterate for months.’

‘Then maybe you should start at the top of the sheet again.’

He took Spock’s hands and placed his fingers over the first symbols. Spock began to read in a dull voice, ‘A, B, C, D, E, F, G, H – ’ He broke off at an exasperated groan from the doctor.

‘Spock, you’re just reeling that off. You know how the alphabet goes.’

‘Then maybe you should have thought of that before you typed it in its proper order.’

‘Look, you blasted Vulcan – ’

‘I find it fascinating to observe how humans must always resort to shouting and curses to gain attention,’ Spock interrupted.

Kirk could see frustration building on McCoy’s face as he tried to keep his temper. There was much the same expression on Spock’s, only hidden better. He walked into the room quickly, hoping to break the tension. Spock put the card down as he heard him enter.

‘Captain Kirk?’

‘Hiya, Spock,’ Kirk smiled. ‘So you’re learning Braille?’

‘I am attempting to learn Braille, but every sentence on this card seems to be utter drivel. I have no interest in enquiring about the health of an extinct edible sea fish, brown or otherwise.’

McCoy exploded into a burst of obscenities, damning all fish and Vulcans. ‘It was a cow, Spock, not a cod!’ he yelled. ‘How many times do I have to tell you?’

Spock ignored the outburst completely, annoying the doctor even more by his placidity. ‘Take this for an example, Captain.’ He felt across the paper until he found the right place, then read slowly, ‘The – cat sat – on – the – mat. No animal of the feline genus has been mentioned before, nor a rug, or any kind of carpet.’

Kirk saw slight amusement playing on Spock’s features. He was glad to see his friend enjoying infuriating the doctor, even if it did send McCoy’s blood pressure rocketing, and even if it was over learning to read simple three letter words.

‘Jim, he’s impossible,’ the doctor moaned. ‘I can’t take it any more. You can see he can read it. He could learn it in five minutes if he wanted to. He’s being awkward just to annoy me. He thinks every U’s an H, every B’s an L, and – It turns every sentence into a completely different one, then he starts to analyse them and pick them apart.’

‘It is very difficult,’ Spock said slowly, ‘to read such sentences and not wonder about what lunatic composed them. It is also hard,’ he said more seriously, ‘to learn to read by touch while my fingers are desensitised from the burns, with the dots small and close together – as you would realise if you tried reading it yourself.’

‘Maybe you two should collaborate on this,’ Kirk suggested. ‘You could choose text you like, Spock, and you’ve got a better idea of how big and bold the print has to be before you can feel it clearly. And I know you’ve requested another nurse on your staff, Bones, so try to find one with experience with blind people.’

‘That is a sensible idea, Captain,’ Spock nodded. ‘And it would help if I had some idea of the nature of the text I am reading. There is no continuity in the nonsense McCoy has picked out.’

McCoy raised his eyes to heaven, praying silently. A snort of laughter escaped from Kirk’s lips and he sank down onto the bed, clutching at his stomach, as the doctor groaned, ‘He’s driving me mad, Jim.’

Spock reached out his hand to touch the captain’s shuddering shoulder. ‘Are you quite all right, Jim?’ he asked seriously.

‘Oh, God,’ Kirk gasped, wiping his eyes. ‘You two would drive a man to drink, really.’

‘I do not understand how I could drive a person to rely on alcohol – although the doctor can be extremely trying. And I do not know what I have said that could be so humorous.’

Kirk calmed down and got his breath. ‘It’s all right, Mr Spock. It was just the look on Bones’ face.’

‘I see,’ he said, although he clearly didn’t understand. He dropped the thick card onto the bed, and McCoy pushed another into his hands.

‘Try this.’

Spock felt the first line, and began to spell, ‘H – u – s – uak – y – ek – a – r – yo – n... Husu a kye kary, Doctor?’

‘Hush a bye baby,’ McCoy corrected him, with a quiet smirk.

Spock dropped the card as if it had bitten him. ‘Doctor, if you think I am going to sit here and seriously read out nursery rhymes for nothing more than your amusement, then you are very much mistaken.’

‘Oh, I don’t know,’ he retorted mildly. ‘Jim, don’t you think he’s got the makings of a first class child minder? He’d be wonderful reading bed time stories to all those sleepy kiddies.’

Kirk shook his head. ‘I’m keeping out of this, Bones. But Spock, I’m glad to see you looking so much better.’

‘I can feel myself growing stronger,’ Spock agreed.

‘I’ve told him he might be able to go into a convalescent room by the end of this week,’ McCoy said, then raised his hand. ‘Don’t go getting your hopes up, Jim – I’ve told Spock too that it’s the convalescent stage that’ll take the longest. It still could be a month or two before he’s up and about.’

‘How long has it been now?’

‘Four weeks, two days, five hours, sixty-nine minutes,’ Spock said automatically, not even needing to add approximately.

‘You can remember the moment that well?’ Kirk said soberly.

‘I shall not forget. I would rather talk about something else, Jim – like the ship. Have you found a suitable person to stand in for me as science officer?’

‘I – haven’t asked for a replacement yet. Chekov’s managing fine, Spock – don’t worry.’

‘I was not worrying – but the ship should have a full-time science officer. It is not fair to Chekov or the ship.’

‘He wants to do it for you, and it’s good learning experience for him. He really is doing fine.’

‘What about the problem of the Klingons?’

‘The Farragut’s investigating that – we’ve got survey missions to do.’ He smiled. ‘You don’t have to worry about anyone being spirited off this ship – we’re a long way from the Klingon Empire right now. You worry about your reading lessons.’

Spock nodded, putting his hand back to the card. It seemed perverse that his pupil Chekov was doing his job on the bridge, the Farragut was on a scientific mission that he should be leading, and he was sitting under two blankets, propped up by pillows, learning to read from an infant’s schoolbook.

‘Spock.’ Kirk’s hand stopped his finger moving on the card. ‘How about I bring some glasses around later, and a little Saurian brandy? You can try to forget you’re in sickbay for a few hours.’

‘How about you rest for a few hours, Spock,’ McCoy broke in, ‘and as long as you’re not too tired, you get into a wheelchair and we all go over to Jim’s room for a while – then you can really forget you’re in sickbay.’ At Kirk’s look of concern, he said, ‘If he gets tired, he can lie down on your bed, Jim.’

‘That sounds very reasonable,’ Spock said graciously. ‘I accept.’

 


	7. Chapter 7

Part 2

The Returning

7

 

Spock sat up in his now familiar bed in sickbay, testing the strength of his arms as he pushed himself up. Hopefully an increase in strength and stability would mean he would be allowed to do more today than lie and rest. He was impatient to return to his quarters; to return to duty and deal with the Klingon situation first hand, instead of listening to second-hand reports. The job should have been the  _Enterprise_ ’s, but another ship had been sent to investigate, one with a science officer that was not incapacitated, and had found nothing except that the Klingons were more scared than angry, and had dropped their allegations of Federation attack. There was no data to go over, no leads to follow, no statistics to work out and no advice to be given. Seven weeks was too long to lie in bed without seeing and with nothing to do. The only excitement had been being moved from the main ward to a convalescent room, and becoming used to new surroundings.

He voiced his thoughts, hoping he wasn’t talking to air. There had been someone in the room, but the nurses were trained into the annoying habit of coming and going as quietly as possible through doors made specially silent.

‘I believe I could get up now,’ he said clearly, to anyone within earshot. ‘I am much stronger.’

‘Not yet.’ The voice came from the door – it must have just opened. ‘Dr McCoy wants you to have at least another week in bed.’

‘That will be two months.’

‘Quite right,’ Chapel’s voice carried on cheerfully, coming closer. It was good that it was her – he had become quite used to Chapel’s annoying human habits.

‘I would like a bell on my door,’ he told her. ‘I cannot hear it open.’

‘I’ll try to sort one out,’ she promised.

‘About getting up – ’

‘You’re not getting up, Mr Spock.’

‘I am the first officer of this starship. I cannot stay in bed for two months.’

It seemed such a simple concept to grasp, but none of the doctors or nurses seemed to understand that his job required constant attention.

‘You’ve done a pretty good job so far,’ she reminded him. ‘Sit forward,’ she interjected briefly, beginning to plump his pillows up. ‘You have been allowed a few walks.’

‘My pillows are fine,’ Spock said wearily. ‘And five turns about the sickbay ward leaning on a frame hardly constitutes a walk. Please leave my blanket alone – ’

‘I don’t want you to escape,’ she said, tucking the blanket back in tightly. ‘And you know you couldn’t manage any further than five.’

She made her voice light and cheerful, but she could only feel sad when she thought of the strong, proud Vulcan hobbling slowly about the room, held up by a walking-frame. It just didn’t seem right.

‘I managed when we were taken hostage by Kor,’ he reminded her. ‘That was only thirteen days after the accident occurred. I have had five weeks since then to grow stronger.’

‘You only just managed,’ she said firmly. ‘You collapsed the moment we got back and slept fifteen hours. It set you back weeks in recovery.’

Spock raised an eyebrow a fraction. ‘I did manage,’ he said levelly.

‘Yes, that time. But you didn’t manage every time you sneaked out alone and fainted from exhaustion twenty metres down the corridor. Surely logic tells you that the more you tire yourself the longer you’ll be here.’

‘There was only one incident when I fainted,’ Spock pointed out. ‘Exaggeration is a fault which you must try to control, Nurse.’

‘Exaggeration or not – you do need rest. You’re tiring yourself now with all this worry, and then there’s your moonlighting.’

‘There is no moonlight on a starship, Nurse Chapel. It would be of little consequence to me if there was.’

‘We know that your computer in here has been active when you’re supposed to be resting. Some of the sickbay staff have heard you dictating – and Dr McCoy’s found twenty-seven papers written by you recently published in scientific journals about the galaxy.’

He closed his eyes, frustrated at the continual insistence of humans that any kind of physical illness required the mind to stop working as well.

‘If I was allowed to work, I would not have to occupy myself writing papers.’

‘You know you can’t work yet,’ she told him reproachfully. ‘That would be even more tiring than dictating what I assume you’ve already composed in your mind. When you’re strong enough you can start spending a few hours a day in the recreation rooms. You can see other people from the crew there, and get used to a little exertion.’

‘I would rather work. I can work from my bed, on the computer here.’

‘No.’ She hadn’t the heart to tell him how many months it might be before he could really work again. ‘You’re not strong enough. You need to give yourself more time.’

‘I have had an abundance of time.’

‘I know.’

Chapel sighed. It was the end of her shift, and she had been going to meet some friends, but Spock seemed more in need of company. She could see him going from a light-hearted mood back down into the depressed state she often found him in, and she didn’t want to leave him alone. His visitors were few, as most of his friends could only visit late in the day, when he was already exhausted or asleep. He had read through his Braille book supply, researched almost everything he could that was in the computer files, but his brain was still in desperate need of stimulation, of new work. Listening to the computer files on every new discovery the  _Enterprise_ made could never compare to the actual discovering. Spock found the combination of tedium and unending darkness intolerable, and it sent him into the depths of despair and frustration. He didn’t know how to cope with being so deprived of visual stimulation, and of simple colour and light, and he wasn’t sure he ever would know. He could remember two Vulcans he knew who had gone blind. One had lasted a year, one only five months, before giving up their Katras to their families and ending their lives.

Spock laid the book he was reading on a bedside-cabinet when he heard the nurse slide into the chair by his bed. He wished again that he could see her face. Any face would be a welcome sight, any thing... He suppressed the thought immediately. Wishes were illogical, and there was no point in mentally torturing himself.

The need surfaced again, but he didn’t try to stop it. It was tiring always enforcing disciplines, and sometimes now he felt tired right through to the bone. For once he would let his mind relax, let the memory of her appearance flood his mind. Always the short blue dress and black boots, and the blue-eyed face with its frame of hair that seemed to be sometimes bronzed, sometimes gold, sometimes silver. It had been golden last time he had seen it. He began to concentrate too hard, to try to make the face move and speak with the voice he heard, and the image fuzzed and blurred, and he lost it. There would only ever be darkness now. That was how it was.

Spock sighed imperceptibly and relaxed back into his pillow, trapped in this bubble of blackness that moved as he moved. It didn’t make sense sometimes that there could be light a micrometre from his eyes, reflecting off them, but he still couldn’t see. It was perfectly logical, but it didn’t make sense. That twisting of logic and the persistent nightmares only conspired to push him deeper into a dark pit he couldn’t get out of. There was no hope any more of seeing, the five percent chance was negligible, there was no hope in anything if he couldn’t find his way back to science and an independent existence.

‘What are you thinking?’

Christine’s voice snapped him back to reality, he blinked, imagined the sight of her sitting next to him.

‘To take the sight of a Vulcan is an unforgivable crime.’

He was quoting from his copy of Vulcan Law in Ancient Times. The book was outdated, published two centuries ago and written of times more than two millennia ago, when Vulcans were ruled by emotions. But right now Spock agreed totally with that statement. The crime was punishable by death, and the form of execution was not pleasant.

‘No one took your sight,’ she reminded him softly. ‘It was an accident.’

‘It was not an accident,’ he stated flatly.

Chapel stiffened. ‘What do you mean?’ she asked, in a voice that wasn’t quite steady. ‘Of course it was an accident – it was no one’s fault.’

‘You are incorrect – the fault was mine.’ Spock’s hands began to grip very tightly on the blanket. ‘I opened the inspection hatch without making any sensor scans. When the explosion happened I stared with my eyes wide open, paralysed by human fear. I didn’t move to activate the fire control switches, I didn’t move to find Ensign Jordan. It is possible that he died because I froze, crushed by something I couldn’t see because I couldn’t find him soon enough.’

‘No!’ Chapel exclaimed. She knew there was bound to be some kind of guilt, no matter how illogical, but she hadn’t known it ran this deep. ‘It wasn’t your fault,’ she insisted. ‘It was an accident. You froze for maybe half a second. No one would ever think you could help your natural reaction.’

She reached out to hold his hand, firmly and reassuringly, and he didn’t pull away from the contact. She could hardly imagine what he had been living through, struggling to adjust to blindness and to regain his strength while silently bearing the needless guilt that he had let someone die and blinded himself.

‘Mr Spock, didn’t you ever read the reports on the explosion?’ she asked him.

‘I haven’t asked the computer to read that file.’

‘Sir, the _Italia_ was a death trap. Did you know it blew up ten days after leaving space docks because of a crack in an antimatter containment pod?’

‘I did not. I hope the loss of life was not large.’

‘No one died – they all got to escape pods in time. But the whole ship was bad, built with cheap materials to save costs. The supporting beam that fell on the ensign was already weak and cracked. The explosion shook it loose so fast it was on Jordan before you could have covered the two steps to him.’

‘And it fell because Starfleet was trying to save money?’

‘Yes,’ she said ruefully. ‘But they’ll probably wind up paying more in compensation and other costs than they saved in the first place. Starfleet Command are starting a full enquiry.’

‘That does not give me a great deal of comfort. But it is irrelevant. I should have reacted faster to the situation.’

‘You couldn’t. The gas worked so fast on your eyes – both of you – that you were blinded the instant it exploded. Even if you had closed your eyes sooner, the force of the explosion would have pushed the coolant under your eyelids. Nothing could have helped either of you.’

‘There are always alternatives.’

‘Not this time. No one thinks it’s your fault. Everyone on the ship’s sent you some kind of card or present – some of them more than once – and all of them were delivered personally. You’ve made a lot of girls cry, Mr Spock.’ _Not least myself_ , she added silently.

‘Is that statement supposed to make me happy?’ he asked seriously. Humans had such bizarre perceptions of emotion.

‘It’s supposed to let you know people care about you. Ensign Jordan’s family sent a message thanking you for trying so hard to save their son’s life. You have messages from all kinds of captains, commodores and admirals, and one from all your instructors at Starfleet Academy. Mr Spock, everyone on the ship is thinking about you, willing you to get better. Dr McCoy’s taken to announcing your condition on the intercom each morning, so many people ask after you. You know you have these low patches every day,’ she said softly. ‘It might help for you to talk about them – tell me how you feel.’

Spock closed his eyes, unsure of whether to talk about the strange, too-human feelings he was experiencing right now. He had to talk to someone, before his mind broke down with the strain of trying to cope with it on his own. He knew half of the staff in sickbay had seen him waking from a nightmare, and fighting to stop the inevitable tears, and Christine knew more of his feelings than any of them.

‘I am so tired of this darkness,’ he said eventually, sagging back into his pillows. ‘I am so tired, and I just want it to end.’

‘I – I can’t make it end,’ she told him. ‘But you will get used to it, and to living with it.’

‘I am just so tired,’ he repeated wearily.

‘I know you must be physically tired, and terribly bored, but it will get easier when you’re allowed up, when you start rehabilitation. Lying here all day with nothing to do is bound to make you feel depressed. And the accident was a big shock, physically and mentally. You know how exhausted that gas has left you – your body’s still struggling to recover. Things will be hard for a while. But can’t you try to explain how you feel? Then we can work out why, and how to overcome those feelings.’

‘So many emotions have surfaced. They’re too confused for me to make any sense from them.’ He smiled faintly. ‘You must know that I am not the best person at expressing emotion.’

‘You can try,’ she said very gently. ‘You don’t have to give the emotions names. Just tell me what you’re feeling.’

‘I still feel like a sighted person struck blind, but I also feel my identity has changed, or been lost. In my head I am Commander Spock, science officer, but to everyone else I shall first be the blind man, the blind Vulcan, just as I have always been known as the first Vulcan in Starfleet, the first Vulcan-human to be born.’

‘No one who knows you thinks of you as that first.’

‘They try not to, but every time a person comes into my room they see my blindness first. They speak to me softly, they are gentle and kind. Even when they realise they’re doing it, they can’t stop. When I ask about the ship, they commence by telling me I don’t want to be worried about it. And my blindness – sometimes I feel as if there is a gravity well around me, holding me to the bed, trying to force tears from me, but there seems to be no feeling behind the tears. I’ve never felt like this before. I know that it’s illogical. I know that I’m surrounded by cards, that people care for me. But it doesn’t matter. Everything seems dulled. Good spirits seem to dull me more. I don’t understand it...’

‘You know, there are organisations all over the Federation that could help you. It would just take a comm link, and you could talk to someone – maybe even a Vulcan – who’s been through this, who knows exactly how you feel.’

‘A blind person?’ he asked hollowly.

‘Yes, of course – but someone who’s got beyond being ‘a blind person’. Being blind doesn’t have to be your whole life – it’s not your career – and talking to someone who’s got past that will help you realise it. I could find out the number if you want me to?’

‘It may help,’ he nodded, then tried again, ‘As would getting out of this room, going somewhere different that isn’t only associated with sickness and darkness.’

He broke off at Chapel’s sigh. She was only a nurse – she had no power to let him leave his room. He tried to move his hands, and realised she was still gripping them tightly. She seemed to realise that at the same time, and let go quickly.

‘You know how tired you are,’ she reminded him again. ‘You could undo weeks of recovery by going out now.’

Spock could tell that she was beginning to soften.

‘Please, Christine,’ he pressed. ‘I feel as if I have been locked away in a cell for weeks, and I have committed no crime. I am tired of the smell in here, sleeping with people walking in and out and around me.’

‘At least you’re in a convalescent room now – it’s smaller, and you can make it more personal than the ward.’

‘The size is not relevant. It is the lack of privacy, nurses and doctors in and out constantly, fussing over me. And I need more exercise than ten steps to the bathroom and back, and ten metre excursions up the corridor. My body is beginning to ache from disuse, and my mind – How can I stop dwelling on darkness when all I may do is lie flat and rely on the computer for company? You know that if it weren’t for this blindness McCoy would have let me out long before this.’

‘It’s your weakness that’s keeping you here. But it is good you want to get out,’ she mused. His mood had been light when he was optimistic of being allowed out – he had only become depressed when she gave him a flat no. ‘Wait there.’

Her footsteps moved away, the boot heels clicking over the floor, then the noise was quietened with a snap. Spock knew she was using the intercom in the passage outside. Then they returned, sounding somewhat lighter, as if the nurse were hurrying to him but trying not to sound so eager.

‘He says he ought to let you run amuck a while, but I’m to stop you creating too much pandemonium.’ Chapel repeated McCoy’s words, then rephrased them for Vulcan style. ‘Dr McCoy says you may go out for a little while.’

‘How little?’

‘A short walk. It took a lot to persuade him. I convinced him that if he didn’t let you out you’d probably knock me down and leave without consent.’

‘I would not knock you down,’ Spock said seriously.

‘You did once before.’

Spock knew she was referring to the events on Deneva, when an alien creature left a sting in his body which grew around his nerves, constricting each time he tried to resist it, creating unbearable agony.

‘I was in considerable pain then,’ he excused himself. ‘I was virtually driven to insanity by it.’

‘I remember,’ Chapel said dryly, rubbing her shoulder as if she could still feel the blow he had given her.

Spock’s face brightened at her tone of voice. ‘I shall not assault you this time,’ he promised. ‘I hardly think I have the strength.’

‘You will soon, hopefully,’ Christine smiled. ‘Have the strength, I mean.’

‘Must I use the walking-frame?’

‘The doctor said you should try some walking without it. You can take this with you.’

She put something long and thin in Spock’s hand. He ran his fingers over it and realised it was a good deal longer than he’d thought, with odd feeling bumps at intervals.

‘Is this what you call a cane – a white stick?’ he asked.

‘That’s right – it’s just the most basic folding stick for now, with none of the sensors, just so you can get used to it. Those were the joints you could feel.’

‘I guessed. I have seen people use canes, mostly on Earth.’

‘Then you must have an idea of how to use it. You’ll learn properly when you can attend the rehabilitation school. Just try to keep it in front of your body, and use it to anticipate the ground surface. I know the ship’s pretty uniform, but you may as well get the feel of it now.’

‘That does make sense.’

Spock held the stick with concealed distaste, the illogical response,  _I’m not blind. I don’t need this_ , running through his mind. He couldn’t help the feeling – or was it a last desperate hope? – that when he walked out of the room he would see, as if there were simply no lights in his sickbay room. He put the stick down on his mattress, and began to slowly sit up. The nurse took hold of his arms, taking some of his weight as he stood.

‘Are you all right?’ she asked, holding him steady as he wavered on his feet. ‘Are you sure you’re strong enough?’

‘I simply need a moment,’ Spock said, closing his eyes and tolerating her gripping hands. He had become used to hands touching and guiding and helping him constantly. ‘I have lain flat for so long that sometimes standing makes me faint,’ he explained. After a moment, he nodded. ‘I am fine now.’

She let go of his arms to take hold of his hand, and he began to walk forward, but Christine held him back.

‘Not like that, Mr Spock. I’m just your guide, not your girlfriend.’

She prised the unusually nervous fingers from her hand and attached them to her arm, then gave him the cane. Spock’s face flushed green.

‘You don’t want people thinking that, anyway,’ she continued, seeing his odd expression. ‘I know you were only holding it to find your way, but people talk.’

‘Humans love to gossip,’ Spock agreed. ‘I have never comprehended how a person can find pleasure in manipulating facts and damaging another person’s reputation.’

‘It’s a natural instinct, I suppose. Everyone – every human seems to do it. Here.’ She took hold of his hand to position the cane in it. ‘Hold it like this, and swing it across your body when you walk. That way you can know what the ground’s going to be like. I’ll still guide you, and you can lean on me if you need to. I won’t walk fast, and my movements will tell you what to expect.’

‘I understand, Nurse,’ Spock told her.

Chapel smiled, and paused a moment to take in the Vulcan properly. She wanted to hold his hand, or to hug him tightly. He was standing straight, despite his weakness, tall and dignified as he always was, but his hand was clasped awkwardly around the handle of the cane. The long dextrous fingers used to working computers and tricorders looked strangely nervous and unsure holding this new tool. She wished for a moment that she were Vulcan, so that she could reach out with her mind and tell what he was really thinking. He looked so alone, even standing right next to her, but at least he seemed so much stronger and full of life – the will to live – than two months ago. A painful lump came to her throat as she looked up at the blank brown eyes in his patient face. He was so strong and undeniably there, but still so fragile at the moment – emotionally as well as physically...

‘Nurse, are you all right?’ Spock asked.

She shook herself, picking up a medikit and slinging it over her shoulder.

‘I’m sorry. Where would you like to go, Mr Spock?’

‘I would like to go to the bridge, but that hardly seems practical.’

‘I’m sure they’d be glad to see you up there.’

‘I would like to go there to see the view of space, and that is impossible as well as illogical.’

‘Well, why don’t you just let me take you somewhere? Keep hold of my arm while you get used to it.’

‘I have no intention of letting go.’

Spock felt the nurse move off and he followed slowly. He knew he was safe, but his legs were weak and unsteady, and he didn’t have the confidence that his own sense of sight would give him. The door swished open, and shut behind him, and he was in the corridor. There was no sudden rush of light, no change in the intensity of the darkness – it helped in an odd way, forced him to accept that there never would be light.

The vibrations coming up the cane all felt the same as it touched the smooth floor, but the antiseptic smell of sickbay faded as they walked away. Spock suddenly realised that his fingers were tightening on the nurse’s arm, and he loosened them. He knew that a relatively light Vulcan grip could bruise a human.

‘We’re going into the elevator now,’ Nurse Chapel told him, and he turned with her arm. There was still no change in the floor, but for a small blip where the tip of the cane ran over the gap between the corridor and the lift floor. He could somehow feel the enclosure of the lift – he knew it was to do with echoes and air movement, but the feeling was hard to pin down.

‘Spock!’

The voice swung him around. ‘Captain?’

Kirk ran quickly to join them, putting his hand on the edge of the door to stop it closing.

‘Spock, where are you going? I didn’t think Bones would let you out – without the frame, too.’

‘The nurse persuaded him to let me – run amuck – for a while.’

‘Are you sure you – I mean – Nurse, should he really be walking about?’ he said awkwardly.

‘I do feel much stronger, Captain,’ Spock told him.

‘No. I meant – Well... What if something happens?’

‘Jim, blindness does not stop me from walking,’ Spock said patiently. ‘I have walked these corridors for more than a decade, and I have never fallen. It is virtually impossible to have an accident on a ship such as this, accompanied by a nurse, seconds from sickbay.’

‘Okay.’ Kirk smiled sheepishly. ‘Guess I’m just an over-anxious friend, Spock. You’ll have to put up with me.’

‘I would not have it any other way,’ the Vulcan replied, with slight amusement on his face.

‘I thought we could go to a recreation room,’ Chapel explained. ‘Mr Spock can get out of sickbay for a bit without getting too tired.’

‘Great!’ Kirk smiled broadly, stepping into the lift and giving it the command to take them to the recreation deck. He had just returned from a hazardous exploration assignment on Regulus 5, and was looking forward to some rest and relaxation. ‘I was going to take my phaser back to the armoury, but it’s been a long time since you beat me at chess, Spock. We haven’t played for ages.’

Spock’s slight impression of happiness dissipated, and his face became expressionless. ‘Captain, perhaps the reason we have not played for so long is because I cannot see,’ he said flatly as the lift stopped. The doors slid open, and they turned into the corridor. He could hear people walking by, their steps faltering as they saw him, then carrying on again more briskly, but he steeled himself to ignore their odd reactions.

‘Spock, you can play chess,’ Kirk urged him. ‘I can tell you my moves and you can tell me your response. I’ll move your pieces for you, and I’m sure your Vulcan mind can keep up with the game. I know you’ve got a better memory than anyone else on this ship.’

Spock stopped walking, anxious of finding a way to avoid being forced into making a fool of himself. ‘Jim, I really do not want to,’ he said quietly. He didn’t want the whole crew hearing. ‘I am tired. I should go back to my room.’

Chapel glanced down briefly at her medical tricorder. The vital signs were weak, but steady, with no indication of sudden exhaustion.

‘You were so impatient to get outside,’ she urged him.

‘And I have been outside. Now I would like to go back. I am tired.’

‘Mr Spock, you’re weak, but you’re not that tired,’ she said firmly. ‘I don’t know if you’ll be able to play chess or not – you probably will. You have to try. There’ll be things harder than chess that you’ll have to try before you can get back to your job.’

Spock considered her argument – it did make sense.

‘Jim?’ he asked. ‘I assume that you have an opinion too, sir?’

‘She’s right, Spock,’ he agreed, then added with half a smile. ‘Logical.’

‘Yes,’ he nodded. ‘The nurse is becoming quite adept at arguing logic. It is slightly – irritating – at the best of times.’

‘I think she’s been taking lessons from Bones on managing Vulcans,’ Kirk grinned. ‘I’m sure you can play chess still, Spock,’ he said firmly. ‘See it as – as a challenge for your memory.’

‘It would be an interesting challenge,’ he nodded. ‘We could take the board to the arboretum. After living in a sterilised hospital room I would welcome some time in the gardens.’

‘That sounds like a good idea, Spock,’ Kirk smiled.

‘Thank you, sir.’ He felt a slight tug at his hand and walked forward again. ‘Is this Section C, Nurse?’

‘Yes, that’s right.’

‘Then we are approaching recreation room 7?’

‘That’s the one – we’re almost there.’

As they reached the plain doors, Spock stiffened, a low hum just audible to his sensitive ears.

‘What is that noise, Captain?’

‘What noise?’

‘From inside the room – a kind of buzzing.’

‘I can’t hear anything. What did you think it was?’

Spock shook his head. ‘I don’t know. I find my ears picking out sounds I had not noticed before. Likely it was nothing.’

They walked through the door as it opened, and Kirk stepped forward, curious.

‘Maybe it wasn’t nothing,’ he said cryptically. He walked slowly toward the chess board that stood in the middle of the long table. ‘Someone’s left chess pieces scattered all over the table. And it doesn’t look right.’

He reached out his hand to touch a tumbled bishop, not noticing a faint purple glow around it. There was a flash, and Captain Kirk disappeared into thin air, silently, and faster than any transporter could take him. Chapel screamed, and grabbed Spock’s arm as he let go of hers. The Vulcan stepped forward quickly, his hands searching for his captain, but his fingers felt nothing but cold air.


	8. Chapter 8

Spock listened hard for the captain’s breathing in the small room, but he could only hear his and Chapel’s, and that strange, faint humming noise. Suddenly everything the Klingon Kor had said seemed to make sense.

‘Captain. What happened? Captain?’ Spock reached out again to where Kirk had been, trying to work out if he was there or not. ‘Jim?’ His searching hands swung nearer to the chessboard.

‘Mr Spock, no!’ Chapel exclaimed, trying to pull him back, but his hand had already brushed the board. The recreation room faded out around her in an instant, to be replaced by glaring purple light. Light that hurt her ears…

Her feet could feel nothing beneath them! She grabbed hold of Spock’s other arm and clung to him, and his strong arms wrapped around her instantly and held her against his chest. He forced himself to suppress wild panic at being thrown so abruptly into new surroundings that he couldn’t see. There was a roaring noise about him so loud that it felt solid.

‘Christine?’ he asked quickly.

His hands tightened against the firmness of her body, feeling the pulsing of her heart, the rhythm of her breaths. It was really her.

‘I’m here,’ she said. She had seen the moment of panic on his face.

‘Where are we?’ he shouted over the deafening noise.

‘I – I don’t know. Certainly not the _Enterprise_.’

‘Nurse, report!’ he snapped, and she silently thanked him for turning it into a scientific analysis.

‘We’re in a void, but we don’t seem to be falling, sir.’ She fought to control dizzy vertigo as she looked down past her feet. ‘I can’t see a bottom, or any kind of walls or ceiling. I can’t see anything except purple light.’

‘Did you see how we arrived in this place? I touched something just before it happened.’

‘You touched the chess board, and everything changed to this instantaneously.’

‘Don’t let go. We must not be separated.’

‘Mr Spock, I have no intention of letting go,’ Christine said fervently, echoing his words of a few minutes earlier. _Don’t faint_ , she told herself silently. _Just don’t faint_. Spock seemed to sense her feelings.

‘We are not falling. We have not been harmed,’ he told her. ‘There is no need for panic.’

‘You can’t see it,’ she said breathlessly.

‘That is not an advantage. Did the captain disappear too?’

‘Just before we did.’

‘Can you see him anywhere around us, or any sign that he was here?’

She screwed her head around, searching in all directions. ‘There’s nothing. There’s – just nowhere for him to be. We’re floating in nothingness. But I suppose he must be in here somewhere.’

‘That may not necessarily be true. What can you see? Describe in detail everything you see.’

‘I can’t see anything. Only this purple light around us. It’s – um – it gets deeper and thicker further away from us, like mist – gets darker. It flickers a little, like electricity. There’s nothing else.’ She swallowed, trying to bear the assault of rasping, lurid sound on her eardrums, and wondered how Spock’s sensitive hearing could take such punishment. ‘I can’t stand this noise.’

‘The noise is loud, but bearable,’ Spock said in mild surprise.

‘It’s horrible!’ she contradicted him. ‘It hurts my ears. It’s like the light in here.’

‘Explain.’

‘At first I thought it was the light I could hear. I know that’s impossible, but – ’

‘Only by the rules of our universe. We could be in a totally alien dimension, where our standards do not apply. Where you can hear light.’

‘The light’s the same as the sound. A disgusting, glaring purple. The sound’s like the audible equivalent. I feel – I feel like all my senses are merging, like synaesthesia. Your voice looks like green splashes, you feel like a loud vibration – it’s hard to explain.’

‘I am experiencing the same thing, albeit mildly. Maybe I am protected from raucous sound to some extent by my blindness. Are we moving?’

‘I don’t know. There’s nothing to compare our movement with.’

‘We’re in a breathable atmosphere, but I feel no wind.’

‘The light swirls around us, but it stops a few feet away. It’s white light immediately around us.’

The nurse wriggled her arm out, trying to ignore the sickening, pounding noise in her ears. Her fingers touched something solid and transparent.

‘I think we’re protected by a force field. Like a bubble around us. I’m just not sure if what my senses detect is real or not.’

‘Fascinating. Miss Chapel, do you remember what Commander Kor said about disappearances?’

‘Of course I do. Then it wasn’t a Starfleet weapon.’

‘I had gathered that. He did mention that some of the abductees were returned.’

‘Yes – dead,’ she said slightly sarcastically.

‘It does not follow that we will die. He said some of them appeared to have committed suicide. We will not do that.’

Spock tailed off, tasting the air he breathed in. It seemed to be slightly less rich than it had been. At the same moment he felt Chapel weakening in his arms again. Of course lower oxygen would be more dangerous to a human.

‘Nurse, you must stay conscious. If you faint I shall be totally in the dark. I need you to see for me, and describe.’

‘I know.’ She gulped. ‘I’m trying, but I can’t stand the noise for much longer.’

Spock slid one hand upwards and pressed it tightly over her ear, protecting the other against his chest.

‘Is that better?’

‘A little. Thank you.’

Spock trembled and felt a trickle of cold sweat run down his spine. He was hit with the realisation that he was quite likely to faint himself. The noise wasn’t so painful to him, but it was hitting his eardrums with the same force that it hit Chapel’s. He held down a surge of nausea, and decided to speak before he succumbed to the urge to let himself pass out. The oxygen levels were still falling.

‘Miss Chapel. We are running out of air,’ he said plainly.

‘I noticed.’

‘Don’t speak. I shall attempt to create a mind link in which we can converse directly between our minds, without wasting air. Do I have your consent?’

Christine nodded slowly, knowing Spock would feel it against his chest. The hand over her ear slipped around to her face, feeling carefully to find the right place. There was a sudden sensation of floating euphoria, and a flash of immense knowledge surged into her mind, too much to be remembered. She knew he was experiencing the same rush of knowledge from her mind. A sudden, cold darkness enveloped her abruptly, then cut off, and she wondered if Spock was sparing her from experiencing the blindness, or cutting himself off from the fleeting moment of her sight.

Then the surges of thoughts and impulses drained away into the background, and she felt focused thoughts entering deeply into her mind, not like speech. But they were her thoughts too now. Then there were words – strange at first, then becoming more familiar, until they seemed as normal as English. It’s Vulcan, she realised. He’s thinking in Vulcan!

<This will not hurt,> they felt together, but she knew they were his words. <We will feel a deeper joining, then we will separate. Then we can speak without speaking, our thoughts will join through walls and force fields.> The tone became more serious. <We must not use the link to read our private thoughts when we are separate. We must not speak to any other of thoughts learned from our minds in this contact. Are we in agreement?> And both voices said, <Yes. We are.>

Christine felt a warmth deep in her mind, then Spock was moving his hand back to her ear.

<What do you see now?>

She heard the voice plainly, but the Vulcan’s lips hadn’t moved. His face was still expressionless, he looked as if he was staring at the pink horizon.

<The light’s intensifying,> she said, and with shock realised she had not moved her own lips. <I think – I think I see something ahead. Far ahead.>

<What is it? Try to fix the image in your mind.>

<It’s hard to see. I – > Then she was overwhelmed with sickness as the sound increased. She heard Spock cry out through the throbbing pain in her head.

<Hold on,> he screamed into her mind. He closed his eyes and tightened his arms around her body. His stomach heaved, and he retched, then his knees collapsed, and they sank together to the bottom of their bubble. The last thing he heard was a terrified, sobbing moan from the woman next to him, then everything blacked out.

 

Kirk paced up and down, then returned to the two unconscious forms that were arranged as comfortably as possible on a thin mattress on the floor. He knew how they would feel when they came around. An hour earlier he had woken after the same experience. The time factor puzzled him. He was sure that these two had been whisked away to wherever they were only a second after him. Spock still wore his sickbay overalls. Surely if their chase had been voluntary Spock would have sent security guards. Scott would have forced him and Chapel to remain on the ship.

He tried again to pull Spock’s arms from around Nurse Chapel, but no amount of strength would budge them. He had given up exploring the room for ways out long ago. It was simply a hollow cube, with no cracks or joins in the walls, no windows, no doors. But at least it was clean. He had been in less hospitable places.

He was glad to find the phaser and communicator still on his belt, but the radio only crackled static at him, and the phaser beam bounced harmlessly off the walls. This was a smooth, silver cell with no way out, a small pile of bedding in one corner and a glass water container and food box in the other.

Then the ceiling had shimmered, and Spock and Chapel tumbled through, moaning and gasping for air even in unconsciousness. He had fumbled in the small medikit that hung from Chapel’s shoulder, and administered a small dose of painkiller to each body. He was pleased to see the expressions of terrible agony fade a little, and the moans slowly stopped.

 

Spock groaned, and tried to move. There was something warm and heavy on him. His head ached so much that he couldn’t think. He was warm, lying on something soft, but his body and head ached unmercifully. A voice reached through the pounding in his head, and he tried to suppress the pain quickly, and listen.

‘Spock, are you conscious?’

‘I think so.’ He tried to clear his mind. ‘Of course I am, Captain. I’m – quite weak. Are you hurt, Jim?’

‘No. Just feeling a little battered.’

‘Are you here too, sir? I mean, how long have you been here? Are we separated?’

‘We’re in the same room. I’ve been here an hour or so, awake. I don’t know how long I was unconscious.’

‘I feel very weak.’

‘You’re bound to be. Don’t try to move. You had a pretty nasty fall.’

‘Miss Chapel?’ he asked, suddenly realising what the weight on top of him was.

‘You softened her landing,’ Kirk said dryly. ‘A tractor beam wouldn’t pull your arms from her. How did you do it?’

‘A quite natural reaction.’ He hesitated, then said rather apologetically, ‘In our species it is called the panic reaction. In a dangerous situation a Vulcan can hold on tight even when unconscious. It will take a little time for my muscles to relax now. If you could rub my arms it would help to restore the circulation.’

‘Sure.’ Kirk rubbed his hands vigorously over Spock’s right arm, and the Vulcan felt warm blood pumping back into it. He flexed it a little, and unfolded it. Soon both arms were relaxed and limp, and Kirk rolled the nurse over onto her back.

‘Are you injured at all?’ he asked Spock.

‘Bruised only, I think. Likely my body was relaxed when I fell.’

‘You were _very_ unconscious,’ Kirk told him.

Chapel moaned, then opened her eyes slowly, blinking against the light. ‘Captain,’ she murmured, then remembered, ‘Mr Spock!’

‘I am unharmed,’ Spock told her. ‘Captain, where are we?’

‘Trapped in a square cell,’ he shrugged. ‘That’s really all I can describe it as for you.’

‘Size?’ Spock prompted. ‘Colour? Material? There must be more than just the shape.’

‘It’s about four metres cubed, silver, semi-reflective. I don’t know what material it is.’

‘It feels strange,’ Spock nodded, passing his hands over the floor. ‘Solid but slightly soft, and warm. Is there a door?’

‘Nothing. There’s no way out. I checked. It’s seamless.’

‘Jim, I believe we are experiencing the problem the Klingons were having.’

‘That goes without saying.’

Chapel sat up slowly, opening her medical tricorder to begin scanning the cell. ‘Klingon skin cells,’ she said. ‘Andorian, Romulan, but mostly Klingon.’

‘Then maybe the anomaly – or the attacker – has been moving about,’ Kirk hypothesised. ‘Tried the Klingons, now it’s trying us.’

‘Jim. While we were in transition I was analysing our situation,’ Spock said. ‘This being much have a fascinatingly powerful transporter.’

‘We’re certainly not in Kansas any more,’ Kirk muttered.

‘I have never been in Kansas,’ Spock said, puzzled. ‘Jim, enough Klingons were abducted for Kor to risk the peace treaty over. We were in a relatively empty part of space. If this creature is now targeting the Federation, it would be more logical to confine its activities to our one ship.’

‘You’re saying the _Enterprise_ could be in danger?’

Spock nodded. ‘If our captor is not satisfied with us. The Klingon record speaks for itself. However, I don’t believe this is a weapon, as Kor did. We could have been killed hours ago if death were the motive. I feel rather more as if we’re in – a laboratory container.’

Chapel shuddered at his words, but they seemed to make sense. Spock tried to move, but his body ached too much to let him, and he knew his legs would buckle with weakness if he tried to stand. Kirk went quickly across the room and returned with a cup, offering it to the Vulcan.

‘Drink this, Spock. It’s water.’

‘Thank you, Captain.’ He sipped a little, then Kirk passed the cup to Chapel. ‘So it is more than an empty cell?’ Spock asked. It seemed so hard getting accurate descriptions out of his friend. With all his sight he hardly seemed to see anything.

‘There’s the water container, three glasses, and a box of some kind of ration bars. I’m sorry, Spock,’ he muttered. ‘You shouldn’t be in a situation like this while you’re still so ill.’

‘It was hardly your fault, Jim. I am concentrating on regaining some strength, and I have experienced the equivalent of an adrenaline rush. It should last for some time, so – ’ The Vulcan stiffened slightly, concentrating intently on something the humans couldn’t see. ‘Captain. There is someone outside.’

‘How do you know that?’

‘I know, Captain. Someone can see us, but we can’t see it.’

‘You mean someone’s out there studying us?’

Spock shrugged very slightly. ‘It may well be – we are captured in some kind of box, and so far no demands have been made. We do much the same thing with non-sentient life forms on the  _Enterprise_ . But this being seems to display a particular interest in one of us.’

‘Which one?’ Kirk asked.

‘Me, Captain. It is probing me. I can feel it. There is – ’ He stiffened suddenly, as if in terrible pain. ‘There is – There is – telepathic – contact,’ he managed to force out, before his face whitened, and he slumped.

‘Spock?’

Spock lay perfectly still, his eyes open wide. Then Chapel gave a whimper of pain, and Kirk caught her as she swayed.

‘Nurse?’

‘I’m – I’m all right,’ she gasped. ‘We had a mind link, in transition. I can just feel... His mind’s being scanned. I can feel it too. He’s in pain. I think – I think they may be extracting – or copying some of his knowledge.’

Then Spock’s body shimmered and disappeared from the small cell.


	9. Chapter 9

Kirk stared numbly for a moment at the slight depression in the mattress – the only sign that there had been a third person in the cell. Then he jumped up with a shout and pounded at the wall with his fists.

‘Hey!’ he shouted angrily at the blank surface. ‘Where’ve you taken him? Where’s Spock?’

‘Captain.’ Nurse Chapel was standing behind him, trembling, but well enough to walk. ‘He might try to talk to me, through the link. He said it works through walls and force fields.’

Kirk took her arm and led her back to the bed, sitting her on the mattress.

‘Concentrate. I need to know.’

She shook her head. ‘Nothing, sir. Oh!’ she gasped. ‘Pain. Strong pain. Now it’s gone. No. It’s not gone. He’s blocking it from me. He must be making his mind ignore it. He won’t let me know what he’s thinking.’

‘Can’t you force him?’ Kirk snapped. He became conscious of the anxiety in his voice, and tried to calm himself.

‘I’m not good at mind reading, sir,’ she said slightly sharply, then added, ‘We promised we wouldn’t read each other’s private thoughts.’

‘Nurse, that is an order. Tell me what he is thinking.’

‘Yes, sir,’ she mumbled, then concentrated harder. ‘His mind isn’t damaged. The creature was only probing it. He’s held down. I can feel it, on my wrists and ankles, waist and neck. The restraints are soft, but he’s in pain, inside. Something’s hurting him inside. He doesn’t know what. The alien, he thinks. He – doesn’t know what’s happening inside him. He wants – ’ She stopped abruptly.

‘What?’ Kirk shook her arm, and her eyes half lost their vacant look. ‘What do you feel?’

She seemed to blush slightly, and shook herself, then said, ‘It was private, Captain.’ She let her mind blank again, and spoke silently, knowing Spock would hear. <I’m sorry, Mr Spock. The captain made me listen. I didn’t know you felt that way.>

Spock squirmed un-Vulcanly under the restraints that tied him down, then was quickly reminded by the pain to stay absolutely still.

<The thought was not relevant,> he thought back. <The pain worsened and it escaped into your mind. You will forget it.>

<I can’t forget that you said you loved me.>

<It was a moment of emotionalism. The pain was great,> Spock insisted. <I needed someone to help me and I wished you were there. A mindlink can sometimes disturb a person’s thinking, and confuse emotions – yours as well as mine.>

<Please. I’ve admitted it to you before now. I’ve told you that I love you, and I’ve seen it in your eyes. I can still see it in your eyes, even now.>

There was a ripple of amusement in Spock’s thoughts as he half smiled. <This is hardly the place for the discussion of romance. I am trying to ignore the pain I am feeling. I need all the strength of my mind and body for that.>

<Are you in terrible pain?>

<Yes. Please will you leave me. I have to concentrate.>

<Yes, sir,> she said softly. <But, Mr Spock – >

<What?>

<Will he – will he kill you?>

<I believe not. You may tell Jim that. And the alien is female, not male. She seems to be concerned for my welfare, but she does not understand the concept of pain.>

Chapel’s mind cleared and Kirk shook her back to full consciousness.

‘Well?’ he demanded.

‘He doesn’t think he’ll be killed,’ she said shakily. ‘But he is in pain. I had to leave his mind so he could concentrate on lessening the pain he feels. You can’t ask me to contact him again, sir. I shouldn’t have done it at all.’

‘All right. I know a Vulcan’s privacy is very – private,’ he finished lamely.

‘Very,’ she agreed. ‘Maybe he’ll tell you what he said, sir, but it’s not my place to do that.’

‘I know it’s not. Oh God!’ he exclaimed, whipping around. Spock was lying on the mattress, a line of green blood seeping through the front of his blue sickbay overalls.

‘No, sir. It is me,’ Spock said faintly, with an effort at levity. His head was spinning with nauseous pain.

The nurse went to him quickly, and carefully peeled away the top of his overall to see a long, sewn-up wound running along the length of his chest. She took out her medical scanner, passing it over the gash, then quickly loaded a hypo and released the drug into him.

‘I’ve given you a painkiller, and something to stimulate body repair,’ she told him. ‘What did she do to you?’

‘She performed exploratory surgery on me,’ Spock said slowly.

‘She?’ Kirk repeated.

Spock’s eyebrow rose. It was typical of humans that Kirk was more interested in the gender of the being than in what she had done.

‘It is merely your ancient earth traditions that dictate that the alien must be male,’ Spock said. ‘She was interested in my internal organs, but for a being with such a sophisticated transporter, she is an extremely unsophisticated surgeon. I would rather let Dr McCoy operate on me.’

‘What did she do?’

‘As far as I could make out, she cut into my chest and examined every organ in there. She used no pain depressants. Luckily she made no attempt to examine my brain – at least not physically. I cannot tell whether she made any scans.’

‘Are you sure you’re okay, Spock? You look very white.’

‘I am in some pain. She used a certain amount of healing accelerants on me, but further healing is still required. I shall try to remain conscious for the process – I don’t feel confident to enter a full healing trance in the present situation.’

Kirk glanced at Nurse Chapel and she nodded.

‘He’s repairing himself at a remarkable rate, sir.’ She touched the skin on Spock’s chest and he flinched. ‘Not as fast as he would if he put himself in a trance, but he’s doing well. There’s a little superficial bleeding, but he’ll recover quickly.’

‘Captain.’ Spock pulled himself up slowly to a sitting position, leaning against the wall. ‘It is imperative that we escape from this place. I know it seems impossible, but it is vital.’

‘Explain.’

‘The alien has already examined a male Vulcan. She will wish to study humans. It is likely she will use both you and the nurse as you are male and female of a different species from me. I doubt that either of you would survive the ordeal. I managed to stem blood loss by slowing my heartbeat and constricting veins and arteries. Also, I had the mental discipline to bear the pain of being operated on while conscious. You could not do that.’

‘Spock, was this alien humanoid?’

‘I do not think so. Her appearance is less important, Captain. It is her nature that we should concern ourselves with. She did not speak as she examined me. I tried to gain impressions of her mind, but there was a block I could not reach through. She may be some kind of telepath. Such ways of blocking entry to a mind are essential in species where everyone can exchange thoughts.’

Kirk glanced at the shiny wall. ‘Do you think she’s still watching us? You knew when she was before.’

‘I sense nothing now, Captain.’

Kirk looked upward at the ceiling. ‘Is there any way of getting up there?’ he mused.

‘Sir?’ Spock asked.

‘The ceiling, where you fell through. You literally slid through the surface, and I thought it shimmered a little just now, as if it may not solid. Maybe we can get out of here.’

‘Won’t the _Enterprise_ be looking for us?’ Chapel asked.

‘I’m convinced that the being can manipulate time,’ Spock said. ‘We may have only been gone a second to the crew of the _Enterprise_. Unless some individual actually saw us disappear, it is logical to assume that it will be some time before we are missed.’

‘What makes you think that?’ Kirk asked, sitting down again.

‘I was on the operating table for hours. I counted two hours before the nurse contacted me, another three after she left, but I gathered from Miss Chapel’s thoughts that to you I had been gone only a few seconds before she spoke to me.’

‘Then it’s possible,’ the captain muttered, but he still looked at the ceiling. ‘How can I get up there?’

‘You could use me as a step, Jim,’ Spock suggested. ‘I am strong enough to hold you on my shoulders.’

‘No,’ said the nurse flatly. ‘You’re still ill, in case you’d forgotten, and you’ve just undergone surgery. I can get up on your shoulders, Captain.’

‘Good. Try it. See if you can put your hand through it.’

Kirk knelt and the nurse sat upon his shoulders. He straightened with a groan, and Chapel slowly stood, Kirk holding her ankles. She lifted her hand nervously toward the shimmering surface, trying not to flinch as her fingers touched.

‘It’s warm,’ she reported slowly. ‘And it feels – kind of rubbery. It’s shimmering as if there’s a light up there, Mr Spock.’

‘Fascinating,’ she heard Spock say from below. ‘Have you applied pressure?’

‘I’m about to.’

She pushed gently at the gelatinous material, until the surface silently parted to let her hand slip through. She gasped at the sudden, unremitting force that was pulling it through the silver ceiling.

‘Captain!’ she exclaimed, trying to tug her hand back against the unyielding pressure. ‘Captain, hold onto me! It’s pulling me! It’s trying to pull me through!’

‘Pull you through?’

Kirk tightened his grip on her ankles and pulled down with all his force. Her hand suddenly slipped out of the hole, and the rent sealed smoothly behind it. The two humans collapsed on the floor.

‘Captain. My hand’s wet!’ she told him in disbelief. ‘It’s liquid up there.’

Spock was touching a hand to a puddle on the smooth floor surface. ‘Indeed it is.’ He smelt the liquid on one of his fingertips, then touched it to his tongue. ‘Quite some amount was released when you broke the surface. Is seems to be simple water. Is it clear, colourless?’

‘Perfectly. But Mr Spock, it was exerting such a force on my hand. I could hardly pull it back. It’s just that it wouldn’t take my sleeve. I wouldn’t have been able to pull back, otherwise. It almost repulsed that.’

‘Maybe the friction of the material,’ Spock suggested. ‘The rougher surface of cloth could damage the surface substance. It may repel anything that cannot travel through smoothly rather than damage the integrity of the ceiling.’

‘That’s a viable theory,’ Kirk nodded. ‘And what about the water?’

‘Captain, I believe this may be an inter-dimensional portal,’ the Vulcan told Kirk. ‘It’s possible that the alien chose to attach her laboratory to a point in our universe. By passing through this intersection we could reach our own space and time.’

Kirk suppressed a grin. ‘You mean it’s a doorway to another dimension, possibly ours?’

‘I believe that is what I just said, sir,’ Spock answered with one eyebrow raised innocently.

‘Well, there we go,’ said Kirk. ‘It’s a way out. I doubt she ever considered that spindly beings like us could swim.’

‘We do not know where the water leads to,’ Spock pointed out. ‘Or how far it is to the surface.’

‘It’s pretty light up there. The water can’t be that deep. And surely drowning is better than vivisection?’

‘I’m not sure that either is an ideal way to die. But I believe I’m well enough to swim.’

‘We’ll have to leave our boots behind, and take off our clothes – even if we could get them through the ceiling we wouldn’t want to swim in them,’ Kirk said. ‘Spock, I’ll try to get my phaser and communicator through in your boots – the synth-leather’s just like skin – and we’ll try to fit as many of our clothes in as possible – so you’ll have something to put on your feet if we reach land. Chapel, make sure you tie your medikit strap firmly around your wrist. What about your cane, Spock?’

‘It is essentially just a stick. If I need it, I am sure we can find such a stick.’

‘Okay – we’ll leave it then. Christine, do you have nutri-solution in your kit?’

‘None, sir. It was just a standard emergency kit – I really wasn’t expecting anything like this.’

‘Hmm.’ Kirk strode over to the water container and looked in the box beside it, contemplating the small pile of thin, dark brown, unappetising nutrition bars. He gathered them up and gave them to Nurse Chapel, who managed to fit them somehow into her small medical satchel.

‘Better prepare some tri-ox compound,’ he suggested. ‘I don’t know what state we’ll be in when we get to the surface – if there’s even breathable air there...’

‘Aye, sir.’

‘We’re all right for food for a while,’ Kirk decided. ‘But we can’t carry water with us.’

‘The water above us is fresh, Captain,’ Spock informed him. ‘It would be fascinating to discover how this alien can hold such an amount of water above our heads with no apparent force fields or anti-gravity systems.’

‘But not now, Spock,’ Kirk said wearily. ‘It took quite a pull to get Christine’s hand back into this room. The water seems to have a tendency to pull through whatever ruptures its surface before the structure breaks and floods this room. I think if we do what we did before, and all hold on to each other for grim life, then we’ll all get sucked up together.’

‘Logical, Captain,’ Spock agreed. ‘if put a little crudely. Would you like me to explain the scientific process?’

‘No, Spock!’ Kirk said, trying to sound patient. ‘I don’t care, so long as it works.’

‘Very well, Jim,’ Spock said patiently.

‘How are you healing?’

‘Well enough to move, sir, and to swim.’

‘Good. So we’d better strip down and try to roll our clothes up small. No time for modesty, Nurse,’ he said at her doubtful look, but he turned while she divested herself of her clothing. Kirk knelt to pull Spock’s boots off and examine them, then he put his phaser against the side and fired a low-power focused beam through it to leave a hole on both sides. ‘So the phaser does work here, just not on the cell,’ he muttered, glad that none of the reflected beams had hit anyone. He cut a strip from his top to use as a handle through the holes, then fitted his phaser, communicator and the rolled up clothes into both boots, and tied the torn material handle around his wrist. Then he gathered up his and Spock’s belts and examined them.

‘We’ll join our wrists with the belts,’ he said. ‘They’ll stop us being dragged apart.’

He made loops in the ends of the belts, then pushed his right wrist through one and pulled it tight, then gave the other belt to Chapel.

‘Put it round your left hand. That way we can keep Spock in the middle. It’ll be safer that way.’

‘Jim.’ Spock broke in quietly. ‘Should we not go on either side of the woman?’ he asked respectfully.

‘No offence, Spock, but I’d rather have a seeing person on the ends. You won’t be able to find land alone. There’s less chance of you being separated from both of us than one of us.’

‘Yes. That is logical, sir.’

Spock felt Kirk tighten a belt around his wrist, then Chapel take his other.

‘You’re the lightest,’ Kirk told the nurse. ‘If Spock can throw you up you should be pulled through, and us behind you. Everyone take a deep breath before we go, and start swimming upwards as soon as you hit the water. It looks as if there’s some kind of sun directly above. Spock. You give the countdown.’

‘Yes, sir.’ Spock felt along the belt connecting him to Chapel and put his hands firmly on either side of her waist. He didn’t like such a personal touch with a naked female, but it had to be done.

‘Three, two, one – ’ He drew in a deep breath, and thrust the woman up into the air as hard as he could.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapel’s head hit the ceiling at an incredible speed, but shot through into the water as cleanly as a diver jumping from the top board. She held her breath tightly and pulled up with her free hand, trying to help the upward current. For a moment it seemed as if her legs would stay feebly kicking in the dry air of the room below, and they would all be dragged back. She heard a faint yell from below as her foot hit something.

‘Don’t kick!’

Then she shot upwards again, feeling a wrenching tug on her left arm as it took Spock’s dense Vulcan weight. She was dreading the captain’s on top of that, but by the time Kirk was off the ground, Spock was half in the water, helping her swim upwards. She opened her eyes for a moment in the swirling water, and was glad to see the medikit still hanging around her neck. Pink blurred bodies struggled beneath her, distorted in the water. Spock seemed to be managing with both his hands hampered by the belts, kicking determinedly. They had appeared at a point a few metres above a sandy sea-bed dotted with multi-coloured coral-like growths, with no sign of the room below, except that for a second only half of Kirk’s body was visible, as if he had been cut off at the waist.

Suddenly there was no force pulling her upward, and she had to rely on strength, and the fact that a human with air in her lungs is lighter than water. Spock’s strong kicks were propelling him upwards, until he was ahead, pulling the humans after him. He knew his lungs would hold air for at least eight minutes, while the others had no such advantage, and he couldn’t let these people drown. It began to feel as if he would never reach the surface, wherever it was, and for a moment he wondered if there really was one. He gave an extra strong kick, and with no warning his head shot into oxygen-rich air, and he floated, panting and gasping for breath. Then the weight of the other bodies pulled him under again, and he drew in a lungful of water. After the burst of energy that the swim upwards had cost him, he just hadn’t the strength to stay afloat...

 

Scott leaned forward in the captain’s big black chair to check the chronometer, and sighed. He would have much rather been down in his engine rooms, tinkering with the mechanics and fine-tuning the antimatter balance, instead of sitting up here doing nothing but giving orders. He had tried calling him twice, but had no answer.

‘Fifty minutes,’ he muttered. ‘Fifty minutes overdue. The captain’s never that late without some good reason.’

‘What’s that, Scotty?’ Sulu turned to see the chief engineer almost squirming in his seat with agitation.

‘The captain’s late.’ Scott twirled the chair towards the platform that ran around the bridge. ‘Uhura, lovey, will ye try to get me the captain on the intercom?’ he asked, his accent increasing in his flustered state. ‘I can’t raise him.’

Uhura smiled at him. ‘Give me a moment, sir.’ She played her fingers over musical sounding buttons, then called, ‘Captain to the bridge. Captain Kirk to the bridge?’ After a few more tries she shook her head. ‘He’s not answering, Scotty. I’m sorry.’

Scott clicked his own intercom button on the arm of his chair. ‘Dr McCoy?’

‘Yes, Scotty, what is it?’ McCoy’s voice seemed worried and preoccupied.

‘You havna seen the captain, have you?’

‘No. Have you seen Spock?’

‘Mr Spock?’ Scott asked with surprise. ‘No, I haven’t. Is he not in his room – in sickbay?’

‘Christine Chapel took him for a short walk. He’s not back in sickbay. They’ve been gone an hour, and they don’t answer on the intercom.’

‘The captain neither. It seems we’ve lost them, Doctor.’

‘Well you better find them,’ McCoy growled. ‘Spock’s not so well yet. He can’t stay out of bed for too long.’

‘Aye. We’ll find them. Scott out.’ Scott released the button and looked up at the Uhura again. ‘Check the transporter room that they didn’t beam out – and check the shuttlebay.’

Uhura complied quickly, but after listening to the crewmembers at their stations, she shook her head. ‘The transporter hasn’t been used, and no shuttles have left the shuttlebay. They couldn’t have left the ship those ways, sir. I took the liberty of checking for life-forms. There is no Vulcan aboard, sir.’

Scott hit the arm of his chair in frustration, his eyes narrowing. ‘Mr Sulu,’ he snapped, his words becoming tense and sharp. ‘Signal red alert. Chekov. Begin scanning the planet for life-forms.’

‘Aye, sir.’ The navigator glanced at the instrument panel, then started and double checked. ‘Sir. There vas a power surge in rec. room 7, one hour ago.’

‘When Mr Spock, Chapel, and probably the captain were last heard of. Do ye think it could have been some kind of transporter beam?’

‘That’s the most likely, Mr Scott.’ He ducked his head, looking slightly shamed. ‘There – vas also an intruder alert at that time.’

‘Why didn’t you report?’

‘Vell, sir – ’ Chekov shrugged apologetically. ‘It flipped on and off so quickly, I thought it vas a bug in the system. I didn’t think I should trouble you vith a false alarm.’

‘It canna be helped now, but in future report all alarms. Is that clear?’

‘Aye, sir,’ Chekov said quietly.

‘I know it’s a strain, laddie, doubling as navigator and science officer,’ Scotty said more gently. ‘But the captain _will not_ replace Mr Spock.’

‘I know, sir. Ve do not vant him replaced by some stranger from another ship. I’m glad to look after his vork.’ The Russian rolled the r deliciously off his tongue. ‘It vouldn’t be right vith another science officer up here.’

‘Aye. You’re right there.’ Scott turned back to face the screen, with its view of the planet below, waiting for any clue as to where the missing persons were.

 

Kirk blinked, staring upwards numbly at a bright blue sky, conscious that his body was being rocked gently by some kind of swell. It was a lazy summer holiday in Iowa, and he was out on the lake in a dinghy with his brother. Then he coughed, choking up water. The boat had disappeared, and his brother was dead. He was lying face up in fresh water, his legs sinking back into the balmy sea so he had to kick to regain his position. There was hot sunshine blazing down at him, blistering his chest. Spock would be okay, he thought grumpily. He was practically immune to sunburn.

Spock!

Kirk tried to sit up, and a mouthful of water reminded him again that he was in some kind of lake. He jerked his wrist, and was relieved to feel resistance at the other end of the belt. He looked at his other wrist, and saw it still had the torn piece of gold material tied around it, attached to a pair of black boots. Everything would be wet, but the phaser and communicator had been built as watertight, and so was Nurse Chapel’s medikit.

He turned his head again, and saw Spock lying half submerged in the water. Face down, he realised with dread. The wet, shining back wasn’t moving, except with the swell of the sea. Nurse Chapel floated on the other side of Spock, unconscious, but breathing. He hoped desperately that Spock hadn’t been lying like that for long.

Quickly Kirk pulled the Vulcan to him and turned him over, then got the nurse closer. Spock was lying face up now, his eyes staring ahead of him like those of a corpse. He fumbled to open Chapel’s medikit and found the waiting injections of tri-ox compound. As fast as he could he held Spock’s slippery arm still and pressured the drug into the Vulcan’s body. Quickly he gave some to the nurse, then found a stimulant and recklessly pushed the solution into them both. Spock made a strangling noise in his throat, and vomited greenish water, the action forcing a spurt of blood through his stitches.

‘Spock?’ Kirk asked anxiously. The knowledge of what happened when a brain was starved of air for too long suddenly hit him, and he grabbed the Vulcan’s hand. ‘Spock, can you talk?’

‘Thank you, Captain.’ Spock tactfully disengaged his fingers from Kirk’s, but reached out again as an undercurrent dragged at his legs. ‘I am well.’

Chapel came around suddenly, and choked water back into the sea.

‘I’m fine, sir,’ she reassured him when she had her breath.

‘We should take a minute to rest, then we better start swimming,’ Kirk said reluctantly.

‘Where to, Captain?’ Spock asked quickly. ‘Can you see land?’

Kirk unlooped the belt from his wrist and trod water, turning around, staring at the vast circle of water around them. He could only thank god that there was a dark line in one direction, that looked like a sandy beach and a tree-line. If they had appeared just out of sight of it, they might have swum another way, and never reached land.

‘I have a very romantic notion, Mr Spock,’ he said mischievously. ‘We shall follow the sun.’

‘Captain,’ Spock began. ‘Surely a more logical decision would be – ’

‘I was teasing. There’s a coastline a few hundred metres away. The sun’s moving that way.’

‘Can you describe what you see, sir?’

‘Just water – like a sea.’

‘You said there was a coast,’ Spock prompted with practised patience.

‘Yes, and – I think I can see trees along it. It curves along the edge of the water. There’s a blue sky, yellow sun, some clouds. That’s all I can see, Spock.’

The nurse stared at the thin ribbon of dull red sand along the water’s edge. ‘Captain, there’s a tide line.’ She looked around her. The horizon curved, looking unnatural, but in reality perfectly natural for a world smaller than Earth. ‘It’s a small planet, Mr Spock, with red sand, green trees. This water extends for miles behind us.’

‘Is it deep?’

‘Quite deep, I think – it’s hard to tell.’

‘Fresh water oceans?’ Spock contemplated. ‘Captain. There is only one planet known to the Federation with tidal fresh water oceans, and the combination of the sky colour and red rock – ’

‘Delta Zozma 3,’ Kirk nodded. ‘And _Enterprise_ was in orbit around Regulus 5. Spock, how far apart are those two stars?’

‘I do not know offhand, Captain, but they are approximately the same distance from Earth – eighty-two and eighty-four light years, respectively – and in the same constellation.’

‘At least we’re in our own universe, our own galaxy – hopefully our own time,’ Kirk realised. ‘They’ll know we’re missing soon. And they’ll search the nearest planet systems first. That’s standard practice. Isn’t this planet unpopulated, Spock?’

‘Unpopulated by humanoid life forms, sir. There are a number of wild creatures. The six-toed tree dog, the fuzzy water bat, the – ’

‘Any of them dangerous?’ Kirk broke in before Spock reeled off every animal on the planet.

‘The ground-panther can kill a person. It burrows under the ground and is apt to spring out from under your feet with no warning whatsoever.’

‘Nice.’

‘Also there is an extensive collection of poisonous plants. Fortunately I do know what they look like.’

‘Fat lot of good that is if we don’t know,’ Kirk mumbled.

‘I still have the ability to describe, Captain,’ Spock said sharply, tired of having limitations forced on him by other people. ‘May I suggest that we stop talking and begin swimming? We are getting nowhere like this. More likely we are drifting with the currents. I would rather have solid ground beneath my feet.’

Kirk could see the strain on his friend’s face as he tried hard to keep his discipline. He realised that Spock had no way of sensing what was beyond his limbs, that he had no way of telling how deep or wide or endless this sea was.

‘Okay – we’ll start towards the coast,’ Kirk told him. ‘Will you be all right just in contact with Nurse Chapel? You’ll need at least one hand to swim with.’

Spock pulled a little at the band around his wrist, to reassure himself there really was a person at the end of it. He let go of Kirk’s hand, then strengthened his mental connection with Chapel.

<Miss Chapel?>

<Yes.>

<Christine, may I keep the bond alive, so I know a little of what you see?>

<Of course you can. It must be horrible swimming without seeing.>

Spock didn’t answer, speaking out loud instead. ‘I shall be fine, Jim.’

‘And you’re sure you’re strong enough?’

‘I must be – I shall not get stronger staying here.’

‘Okay.’

Kirk began to swim, then Chapel kicked off, staying a little ahead of Spock all the time.

<Are you okay?> she asked him silently.

<Yes, I am managing. I can feel something touching my skin?>

<There’s fish all around us. They seem curious when we move.>

<I see.>

Then their minds were silent again. Chapel pulled after Kirk, listening to his splashing and always keeping one eye on Spock. It was awkward swimming with one hand, but she couldn’t release the belt that linked her to him. The Vulcan was reading flashes from her mind, but all he caught were brief glances of his own face, and splashing blue and white water, then the image of his almost naked body.

<Our clothes will be wet when we reach land,> he said with concern.

<We’ll have to let them dry in the sun, or try to light a fire. We’ll look like castaways,> she said brightly. Bubbles of laughter rippled through her mind, then her thoughts turned darker, <But the sun’s sinking, quite fast. It’s not far to land, but we have to find shelter and some way to keep warm. And there’s the panther you mentioned.>

<If we can light a fire it may be scared away.>

<You said they burrow.>

<The captain has his phaser and I have taken on animals larger than the ground panther before. There is no point in worrying. What is, is. What will happen we cannot do anything about until we face the challenge.>

<You mean don’t cross bridges until you come to them?>

Spock considered the human saying. <An illogical way of putting it, since one obviously cannot traverse what is not yet there, but yes, that is essentially what I mean. How far is it to the land?>

<Three hundred metres?> she guessed. <Not too far. We’ll get there before nightfall, I’m sure. We just have to keep on swimming.>


	11. Chapter 11

The gentle noise of water splashing from arms and legs began to be drowned in the crash of waves as they neared the shore. The water was becoming shallower, and Spock jerked his foot away sharply as it touched a hard and slime covered rock.

<How near are we?> he asked Christine through his mind. <The waves are becoming quite loud.>

<We’re almost there. You can rest soon. There’re red rocks below us, covered in green stringy seaweed.>

‘Spock.’ Kirk looked over his shoulder, and spluttered as water smacked over his face. ‘We’re almost there.’

‘I know, Jim,’ Spock said aloud.

‘It’s nearly dark. The sun’s going down.’

Spock merely nodded at his statement of the obvious. There was no burning sun on his skin now. Suddenly the water was sucking and churning back and forth around his body as they entered the waves. He twisted his tied hand to feel the pull of the nurse at the other end of the belt.

‘Miss Chapel, as we approach the shore I would like you to describe in more detail,’ he ordered.

The noises of moving water almost obliterated his voice now, and Chapel had to strain to hear him speak. It was much easier in the peacefulness of mind link.

‘Yes, sir,’ she promised, although it was really too noisy for anything useful to be heard. ‘We’re coming into the swell. It’s about to get shallow when the wave recedes.’

She cursed quietly as her toes scraped across a rock, the water pulling her roughly backward, then she staggered forward as the swell pushed her. The sand seemed to rush upwards to meet her, and she stumbled, on her feet for the first time. A wave rumbled up behind and crashed over her with shocking violence, but Spock dug his feet into the sand tightly and somehow they both stood firm.

‘Captain,’ he called when the wave subsided. ‘I need your support.’

Kirk rose from under the water, festooned in fresh water sea weed. Disgustedly he tugged the strands from his body, reasoning that at least this water wasn’t full of salt. All the same, with all the water around him the last thing he’d wanted was a drink forced upon him.

He hadn’t heard Spock’s call, but he reached for him anyway, and felt half of the Vulcan’s weight through the grip on his arm. They waded forward, managing to stay together as another wave collided into them, picking them up and carrying them toward the shore. Spock felt his legs being torn from the sand as he was sucked backwards again, then suddenly his whole body scraped forward into the sand. Jim’s hands grabbed his wrists and dragged him further up onto the soft, wet sand, and he lay still while the belt around his arm was untied.

‘Spock, are you all right?’ Kirk asked urgently. He pulled the belts away, then rolled the Vulcan over, and stared at him. ‘Spock?’

Spock waited a few seconds to get his breath. ‘I am all right,’ he said, lying still. For now he was quite content to just lie and let the world move around him. ‘That was – quite interesting,’ he said at length.

Kirk untied the strip of material from one of the boots he still clutched, and pulled out his communicator. ‘Kirk to  _Enterprise_ ,’ he said hopefully. ‘Kirk to  _Enterprise_ . Out of range,’ he muttered, snapping it closed.

He looked up and saw that the sun was glowing red, a dull disc a fraction above the trees. Spock tried to minimise a sudden shudder that ran through his body, but the captain saw it, and remembered the Vulcan sensitivity to cold.

‘We better keep moving, at least until we’re dry.’

He dropped the communicator back into the boot and took Spock’s arm again, helping him stand, but the Vulcan’s knees almost collapsed, and Kirk let him sit back down, holding him up with an arm around his back.

‘I’m sorry, Jim. I’m very tired,’ he said, resolving that to be his last complaint. Chapel only had a small medical kit, and his weakness wasn’t treatable, so there was no point in speaking about it beyond asking for rests more often than he might. He felt a hypo on his arm, but didn’t ask what it was.

‘Captain, we need to find shelter,’ Chapel advised. ‘I’ve given Mr Spock a broad-spectrum antibiotic, but there’s a risk of pneumonia.’

‘Okay, I know,’ Kirk said, looking around at the sloping red sand. ‘Spock, you know most about this place.’

‘You said there were trees along the coast,’ the Vulcan remembered. ‘What type are they, Captain?’

‘They’re – green,’ Kirk faltered.

‘Is there undergrowth? Are the leaves large or small, smooth or soft?’

Kirk peered up into the trees that bordered the sand. ‘There’s patchy undergrowth – it’s quite clear. The branches start moderately high up. The leaves look soft, mostly with small teeth along the edges.’

‘Thank you. Then there should be no seriously poisonous plants, and a diminished number of wild beasts. Is there a spreading type of plant with large leaves growing up to human-height? They should be common here.’

‘I see some large leafed plants, quite abundant.’

‘We can find shelter there, then,’ Spock said.

He seemed to sigh as he spoke, and Kirk suddenly realised how daunting the task of more walking would seem to his exhausted friend. He hooked his hand under Spock’s arm and took his weight as he stood, then Chapel took the other arm and they staggered up the beach. Kirk’s legs were shaking from tiredness, and this clinging red sand about his feet was the last straw, but soon they were on soft, blue-green grass and he had his first clear sight of the plant Spock had described. It was large, spreading over an area of at least twelve square metres, with dark green leaves larger than a human that drooped to the ground from stiff stems.

‘Sit down then, Spock,’ he told the Vulcan, lowering him gently to the ground. ‘It’s just grass.’

The Vulcan sat silently, and without protest. Kirk reached out to the plant, but stopped before he touched it, asking;

‘This large leafed plant. Is it safe to touch?’

‘Certainly, sir,’ Spock nodded, reaching out. Kirk put one of the drooping leaves to his hand, and he felt each side. ‘I have never felt the thing, but this should be a giant rub’la plant.’

Kirk crouched down beside him. ‘Spock , isn’t that a Vulcan word?’

‘Meaning hairy, or downy. Yes.’ Spock was glad for the opportunity to be less of the hindrance he felt he was. ‘Vulcans were the first to explore the planet. The undersides of the leaves are covered in a thick down that gives the plant its name. Landing parties on this planet have made great use of its properties. It usually hollows out underneath, and the covering leaves grow thickly and provide insulation. If we pick some of the outer leaves of the bush we may use them as bedding, and sleep in the shelter underneath.’

‘And what about all your wild animals?’

Spock raised an eyebrow. ‘ _My_ wild animals, sir?’ he inquired innocently. Kirk was glad to see him indulging in this kind of light-hearted, literal-minded by-play once again.

_Maybe this adventure is going to turn out to be good for Spock,_ he thought. He doubted Dr McCoy or Nurse Chapel would agree. Mentally, the Vulcan was glowing. Physically, he looked like hell.

‘I am sorry, Mr Spock,’ he said with mock gravity. ‘I meant to say _the_ wild animals.’

‘I believe I mentioned that there are not many dangerous wild animals in the forest. We shall have to take our chances with those that exist. And a ground panther cannot burrow through the roots of the rub’la.’

Kirk wrestled with a tough stalk and eventually the leaf snapped off, letting loose a thick scent like peppermint as sap welled out. He handed it to Spock.

‘You better try to get yourself dry on this. The last thing we want is you getting hypothermia.’

Spock held the leaf out to the nurse. ‘Miss Chapel, dry yourself,’ he said briskly, and waited until Kirk had broken off another for him. ‘Jim, do not forget yourself,’ he said. ‘It would be disastrous if you fell ill too.’

Kirk hurriedly rubbed a downy leaf over his dripping skin, feeling it absorb most of the moisture. Then he glanced around to see Spock was dried, and sitting with his head resting on his knees.

‘Are you okay, Spock?’ he asked, touching him.

‘Simply tired.’ He raised his head. ‘I shall help break more of the leaves off.’

Kirk hesitated – Spock wasn’t really strong enough for even that, but he wouldn’t be able to stand letting everyone else work while he simply sat and waited for his bed to be made. Chapel gave him a stern look, but then she looked at Spock, and nodded.

‘We’ll set up a chain,’ Kirk said. ‘If you break them off, I can go inside the bush to spread them – Christine, you can pass them down to me.’

‘Aye, sir,’ Chapel smiled, not arguing that Spock had been given the more strenuous task.

Spock felt for the stem to the leaf he held, knowing that Jim was trying to make him seem useful, but glad of it, and glad that there would be somewhere to lie down and sleep all the sooner because of it. He kept snapping off the leaves and passing them to Chapel, until Jim had called that he had enough, and he sat scrubbing the sticky sap off his hands as Kirk backed out of the bush, cursing as he head hit a branch he had hit on the way in.

‘It’s black as pitch in there,’ he said. ‘But I managed to spread the leaves out. There’s a nice little hollow under there.’ He took Spock’s arm and led him to crouch by the passageway in. ‘You better go in as flat as you can, Spock – there are some branches hanging down.’

Spock crawled in on his hands and knees until he felt the leaves on the ground, then Chapel came in behind him, then Kirk.

‘Mr Spock, you should go in the middle again,’ the nurse suggested, crouching on the leaves. ‘You’ll get colder than we do.’

When the idea of sleeping in a communal bed came up she thought she would rather sleep by Spock than Kirk or any other human male. Though she trusted her captain, a Vulcan was more likely to only have the idea sleep impressed on his brain. She was relieved to hear the captain agree, and settled down between the warm, soft leaves, huddling close to the others for warmth, and to keep them warm.

The fur on the leaves trapped the heat of their bodies, and the space between them warmed quickly, until she was sleepily cosy. The Vulcan stirred restlessly beside her in his sleep. She couldn’t blame him for having disturbed dreams. She slipped her hand down silently to hold his in the dark, and his restlessness died away. This was almost more pleasant than her bed on the  _Enterprise_ . It was just as comfortable, enhanced by the ageless excitement of ‘camping out’. For a long while she lay staring into the greenish darkness above her, breathing in the peppermint scent of the leaves, and listening to the cackles of unfamiliar nocturnal birds, and the gentle crashing of waves on the shore.

 

Scott, on the  _Enterprise_ , rubbed his eyes wearily. He wasn’t sleeping. He decided he would not sleep until Kirk and the other two were found safe and well. He rested his head on his hand for just a second. The gentle bleeps and noises on the bridge were almost hypnotising...

‘Scotty.’

Scott jerked awake, cursing himself for letting himself nod off while in command of the ship of all things. Uhura was at his elbow, holding out a cup of steaming black coffee.

‘Uhura, lass, you’re a life saver,’ he said earnestly, reaching out and taking the cup. ‘How did you know I needed that?’

‘You should get some sleep, Scotty,’ she smiled.

‘I’m not tired,’ he lied, yawning widely.

‘You are tired.’

Scott jumped at hearing McCoy’s voice behind him.

‘Dr McCoy,’ he said reproachfully. ‘Don’t do that to a man. Creeping up behind me like that.’

‘I’ve been standing here five minutes,’ McCoy corrected him. ‘While you slept and Uhura waited for your coffee to cool. The coffee that you didn’t even remember asking for. You really should get some sleep.’

‘He’s right, Scotty,’ Sulu agreed apologetically.

‘What is this? A conspiracy?’ Scott asked in a hurt voice.

‘You need sleep,’ McCoy repeated, his tone becoming lightly formal. ‘Now that’s a medical diagnosis – and an order. Will you carry it out, or shall I call security to relieve you? I could have you put under restraints in sickbay.’

‘I have to find the captain,’ Scott protested futilely. ‘And Mr Spock’s very ill. He’s too weak to stay out of bed for long – you said so yourself, Doctor.’

‘Wherever Spock is, I’m sure Jim’s taking care of him, and Chapel’s practically a doctor in her own right. You sent Chekov off an hour earlier because he fell asleep at the board,’ the doctor pointed out. ‘You told him a sleep would freshen his mind. Try taking your own advice.’

‘I can take over here,’ Sulu promised. ‘We’ll find them faster without the temporary commander falling asleep at his post.’

‘Aye. Maybe you’re right. You have the con, Mr Sulu,’ he said sadly, vacating the chair with slow reluctance.

‘You should go too, Doctor,’ Uhura said quietly.

‘I’ve got a few hours left in me yet, Uhura. Sulu. Do you really think we’ll find them?’

‘We’ve got the best sensor equipment in the galaxy. We’ll find them. Don’t worry, sir. This is the _Enterprise_.’

‘Hmm.’ McCoy bounced up and down on his toes a few times, fiddling with his fingers behind his back. ‘You know, maybe I will take that nap,’ he decided, and he ran to catch Scott at the elevator door. They went into the lift as Sulu slipped quietly into the command chair.

 

Spock opened his eyes slowly, remembering that he was lying under the cool rub’la plant. He lay very still, slowly absorbing all the sounds and smells, from the strongest crashes to the tiny rustles and insect noises, and the smell of moisture and grass. It seemed to be morning, and he had slept for eleven point four hours. Night here was only nine hours at most. He knew he hadn’t had enough sleep to replenish his strength, but that couldn’t be helped. He was awake now.

He lay for a moment in the warmth of bodies either side of him, then wriggled out carefully, trying not to awaken Kirk or Chapel. He felt the warmth of sun on his skin as he came out from under the huge rub’la plant, and knew that it was light. He wondered if Jim had spread their clothes out to dry, but he didn’t stop to search for them. As he stood he realised something he had been too tired to notice last night – the gravity here was noticeably less than on the ship, and although he felt quite weak, he felt stronger than he had expected to.

He turned and listened to the waves washing up the fine sand, and walked down towards it, stepping and slipping down the shallow sandy slope until cold water spread over his feet. He knelt and scooped some in his hands, drinking first, then rubbing it over his face and neck to shock his system into alert wakefulness. He ran his fingers through his damp hair to smooth and tidy it, then stepped back a few steps and sank down to the warm sand, wondering when was the last time he had relaxed on a beach. He needed to relax – he was still frustratingly weak, and his body shook even when he was hardly tired. He let the warm sun soak into his body, and let his mind sink into a state of deep meditation – this seemed to be the first time he had felt peaceful since the devastating explosion, and he took advantage of that feeling to the full.

 

Chapel rolled over in her sleep. A second later she was looking at red light through her shut eyelids, and realising it was after dawn. Then she opened her eyes in fright, sensing the empty space beside her. She reached out and shook Kirk’s arm.

‘What?’ Kirk grunted. ‘Red alert? Is there...’ Then he woke up fully, and remembered where he was. ‘Where’s Spock?’

‘I don’t know – I just woke up.’

The captain leapt up, hitting his head on a thick stem above him. He pushed his way out as fast as he could and scanned the beach in a panic. He saw Spock sitting on the sand, and sighed in relief. He could feel his heart pounding against his ribs still as he ran down the beach.

‘Spock,’ he gasped, slipping down by the Vulcan. ‘Thank God you’re all right.’

The voice jerked Spock out of his meditative state and he blinked. For a moment he had begun to see the darkness as part of the meditation, not as anything physical, and it had ceased to preoccupy his mind.

‘ _Are_ you all right?’ Kirk asked doubtfully. The Vulcan looked dazed. ‘What’re you doing down here?’

‘I was meditating, Captain,’ Spock said peacefully, and Kirk smiled.

‘I didn’t mean to panic – we just didn’t know where you were when we woke.’

‘I did not want to wake you.’ Spock sat silent for a moment, contemplating on the short interval of utter freedom he had entered. ‘Are our clothes dry, Jim?’

‘I haven’t looked, but I hung them out on the bush last night, so they might be.’

‘I think it would be advisable for you to dress, sir. You are a starship captain. If a landing party from the _Enterprise_ were to beam down – ’

‘Yes.’ Kirk glanced down at his state of undress. ‘Logical, Spock.’

‘Entirely.’

‘I wonder if they will find us? But then, I don’t think Scotty would rest until he had.’

‘Mr Scott is most efficient in these matters,’ Spock agreed. ‘And we should be the only humanoid life forms on this planet. It is astonishing, Jim, that there is no intelligent life here. Humanoid life would flourish.’

‘Spock!’ Kirk exclaimed suddenly. ‘When the Vulcans mapped this planet wouldn’t they have built base stations to operate from?’

‘It’s highly probable that a large number of stations exist on the planet.’

‘With long range communication devices?’ Kirk asked hastily.

‘Almost certainly,’ Spock nodded quickly, understanding.

‘Then we can call the ship?’ came a new voice excitedly.

Spock jumped – the sand had been silent under her feet. Kirk looked up at the nurse. Her hair was loose, hanging damply in brown-gold strands over her shoulders, not yet dry from the swim of the night before. The uniform she wore was still slightly damp in patches.

‘I should pull you up for the state of your uniform,’ Kirk grinned.

‘I assure you, Captain, I certainly look no more in disarray than you do,’ Chapel said in a prim voice, putting a pile of clothes down on the sand. ‘I didn’t bother to iron the uniforms, but I did make breakfast.’

She put Spock’s clothes into his arms, then pressed a nutrition bar into his hand and he touched it lightly with his fingers.

‘From the cell?’

‘Yes. I’m afraid they’re a little like dog chews, but I scanned them and there’s nothing harmful in them. Only concentrated nutrition. It’ll swell up in your stomach and fill you up.’ She gave another to Kirk, and chewed on one herself. ‘You were talking about communicators,’ she prompted them. ‘How will we find them?’

‘The Vulcans would have built the survey stations on the most logical sites,’ Spock offered. ‘Therefore we must seek out the most logical place around here.’

‘Which would be?’ Kirk asked.

‘Near some source of water, but also close to the middle of a sector. Maybe on slightly raised land, but a flat site, preferably cleared. Nurse, you mentioned your medical scanner. Could it be used to scan for metal?’

‘Maybe with some adjustments – it’s not meant to be used long range.’

‘Get on it then, Spock,’ Kirk said automatically.

‘My fingers are not that sensitive,’ Spock told him softly.

‘Captain, I think I can do it,’ Chapel promised. ‘If I can use the battery in your communicator to boost the range.’

Kirk considered it for a moment. The battery could be put back in if he needed the communicator. ‘Okay,’ he nodded.

Chapel went back to the bush to begin the alterations, while Kirk and Spock dressed on the beach. Finally they heard a triumphant call from the nurse, and Kirk saw her holding the jury-rigged scanner above her head, waving to them. She ran down the sand smiling.

‘It works?’ Kirk asked.

‘There’s metal somewhere in the woods,’ she nodded, pointing. ‘In that direction, a large concentration of durinium.’

‘That’s a man made metal,’ Kirk remembered. ‘It has to be a survey station.’

‘Not necessarily, Captain,’ Spock pointed out. ‘It could be a crashed vessel, or some other wreck. But likely it is a station. I suggest we begin walking, sir.’

‘We have no water carriers. How far away is this metal?’ he asked the nurse.

‘I can’t tell the distance, sir, but the signal is strong. If we drink what we can here, hopefully we’ll get to the station before we really need another. Mr Spock, are you strong enough to take the walk?’

Spock nodded. ‘The lower gravity here will help.’ He paused, then said, ‘You should take my boots.’

‘No,’ Chapel said firmly. ‘I can see where I’m putting my feet – you can’t.’

‘Very well,’ Spock acquiesced, knowing a foot injury would only slow them down more.

‘We may as well start, when we’ve drunk.’ Kirk looked forward into the forest with a quiet sigh. ‘It might be a long walk.’


	12. Chapter 12

Kirk sank down onto the trunk of a fallen tree and grasped his ankle, pulling it up to examine the sole of his foot.

‘How far have we walked, Spock?’ he sighed. ‘Feels like miles.’

‘I cannot promise to be accurate in my measurement, sir,’ Spock said cautiously.

‘How far, Spock?’

‘Approximately 3.64 miles. With no shoes it must seem further.’

‘The signals are still getting stronger,’ Christine said hopefully. She studied the Vulcan’s pale face. ‘How tired are you, Mr Spock?’

‘Only a little,’ he told her. There seemed little point in telling the truth – they would only insist on more rest, which would hold everyone up. ‘One can appreciate the irony of the situation. I had wanted to take a walk, and go to the ship’s park to sit amongst the plants. Now I have both exercise and nature in abundance.’

‘Both of which could kill you. Sit down.’ She settled Spock on the tree and he pressed his hands onto the trunk. ‘It’s an old tree that’s fallen down,’ she told him.

Spock probed the tree trunk with his fingertips. ‘This is moss, isn’t it?’ He brushed his hand over a soft patch.

‘That’s right. A lovely dark, rich green.’

Spock picked a little of the dry, rotting wood from the trunk and brought it to his nose. It was interesting, exploiting this new way of perception, gaining a new perspective on his surroundings.

‘The tree has been dead for some time,’ he remarked. ‘Probably killed by a fungal disease.’ He sat for a while, listening to the sounds of various alien creatures and rustling plants, taking in the scents of foreign soil and flowers, then he said, ‘Describe the surroundings please, Nurse.’

‘We’re in a clearing, with trees and plants around us, and moss covered rocks. A few flowers – red ones and white ones around the bottoms of the trees. Some pale yellow ones, a bit like primroses. The ground’s covered in green moss and grass and dead leaves in autumn colours, ranging from the darkest brown to rich red and pure gold. A few creepers and spreading plants.’

‘And thorns,’ Kirk interrupted, pulling a bramble-like strand from his foot. ‘Plenty of thorns.’

‘I haven’t trodden on any so far,’ she replied lightly. ‘You only have to be careful where you put your feet.’

‘Maybe bark could be tied to the feet for protection,’ Spock suggested, feeling slightly guilty that he was the only one with shoes.

Kirk looked about at the dead tree, and hanging vines, and shrugged. It was worth trying. After a few minutes, he found that bark wound round and around with vines did make odd, cumbersome kind of sandals, even if his and Chapel’s feet did look very strange.

‘Do you think the flowers are safe to touch?’ Christine asked Spock.

‘It’s only some of the large flowers that are irritant to touch, but there seems little point – ’

‘To gain a more intimate knowledge of the surroundings,’ she told him. ‘You can only get from my descriptions what I perceive.’ Spock inclined his head, willing to humour her, so she guided him over to a tree. ‘There they are, at the bottom.’

The Vulcan knelt, reaching out, and Christine placed his hands lightly over the flowers. Spock touched the small white petals sensitively, feeling the shape and size, the veins in the leaves and tiny hairs across their surface.

‘Their scent is akin to vanilla – or Vulcan khast.’ He moved his hand to the dark red ones. ‘They must be t’bula. Some red, some white. These are the red ones, aren’t they? A deep red, like crimson.’ He stroked his finger over a clump of delicate, velvety flowers.

Chapel stared in surprise. ‘Yes. They are too. How do you know the difference?’

Spock lifted his head as Kirk wandered over interestedly.

‘I am not sure of that,’ he confessed, ‘but I have noticed for a while that colours seem different to my fingers. The sunlight seems green on my skin. It may be the wave lengths of the colours reflected. It could even be to do with telepathic ability – some kind of deep link with the surroundings. I know that it’s not unusual for a Vulcan to feel colours. This light is particularly strong.’

The nurse tipped her face upwards to see the slender, beautiful trees stretching a hundred feet into the sky. ‘The tree trunk’s dull brown-green,’ she told Spock. ‘The branches start a few feet above a person’s head. They’re very slender, like a birch tree, but ever so much taller. The leaves are almost perfectly round. Yellowish green and practically transparent. It makes the light a beautiful colour below the trees.’

‘I can feel it. The tree reflects it – it is shiny.’ Spock slipped his hand over the smooth tree trunk, feeling the bark.

‘Spock, I’m going to scout ahead a little way,’ Kirk said. ‘It’ll give you a chance to rest, and I’ll be able to pick out the best route.’

‘Are you sure it is wise to separate?’ Spock asked.

‘I’ll try to keep you in sight – if I don’t, the scanner will bring me back to your life-signs.’

‘Very well,’ Spock nodded, and heard the noise of Kirk’s footsteps move further away. He brought his attention back to the nurse as she sighed heavily.

‘Does something trouble you, Miss Chapel?’ he asked politely.

She smiled, wiping a hand over her face. ‘I must look a sight – I’m covered in mud.’

‘You may look a sight,’ he nodded. ‘I do not know.’

She sighed again. ‘Mr Spock, we’re alone now. Do you remember what you said when that alien was operating on you?’

‘I do have a complete memory of that conversation,’ he said slightly reluctantly.

She sat back on her heels and looked at him. ‘Didn’t you mean what you said? Don’t you find me at all attractive?’ she asked directly.

‘I cannot see your face,’ Spock said without inflection. ‘I am blind.’

‘My face hasn’t changed,’ she promised. ‘It’s just as you’d remember it.’

‘Christine, you have been of vast support to me, especially here,’ Spock said softly. You have been patient with me when I am unsure, described every obstacle on this rough ground, guided me through the water without complaint, with your wrist tied to mine. You have been patient for two months, gently teaching me and coaxing me to try to live again, while I have been unforgivably emotional. You have never been angry with my slowness and clumsiness.’

‘How could I be angry?’ she asked him, shaking her head. ‘Anyway, you never have been slow or clumsy. And I know it’s harder for you to come to terms with losing your sight than it would be for any one of us.’

‘Not everyone would think so selflessly,’ Spock reminded her. ‘But finding someone attractive doesn’t mean one must suddenly lose all of one’s discipline and yield to emotional impulses. I have just lost my sight, Christine. Two months is a long time, but it is also a very short one. I do need a person to help me at this moment in time – I cannot deny that – but mixing that with love would be a very great mistake, and distinguishing between the need for support in my blindness and the need for love is not easy.’

‘Mr Spock, how do you feel about me?’ Chapel asked. It was so hard to tell.

‘I do not know,’ he said with tired honesty. ‘The captain will be returning soon. It would not do to be speaking of this then.’

Despite his Vulcan training, Spock felt a twinge of guilt at speaking so bluntly to her. He touched the flowers at the base of the tree again, and felt down from the petals to snap a few off at the base of their fragile stalks. He carefully arranged them, then reached out a hand to her shoulder.

‘I am sure these will enhance your beauty,’ he told her, gently tucking the flowers into her hair with careful fingers. ‘There. White and crimson flowers, against golden hair. I can feel the colours, and they seem to go well, when I picture them in my mind.’

‘You really do see with your fingers, don’t you?’ she smiled.

‘I perceive the world around me with all my remaining senses, and with what others tell me. I can hear the captain returning. We should walk to meet him.’ Spock found the tree again, then stood up, keeping a hand on the support of the wood, but Kirk had reached them by the time they had walked to the edge of the clearing.

‘We must be moving on, Captain,’ Spock said. ‘It would be wise to find some kind of shelter at least before nightfall.’

‘We should reach the station long before then, if it’s there. I found a clearish route for a few hundred yards.’ Kirk handed the medical scanner to Chapel and touched Spock’s hand. ‘I’ll guide you a while.’

‘Thank you, Jim. I do appreciate your patience with me.’

‘There’s nothing to be patient for,’ Kirk smiled, but he still felt sad as Spock walked forward, reaching ahead slightly with one arm and holding tightly to Kirk’s with the other. His feet stumbled over dead branches and forest debris that littered the floor, catching under creepers that spread over the ground. As Spock almost tripped the captain slipped his arm around the Vulcan’s waist to steady him.

‘How’re you going, Spock?’

‘I am managing, Jim, but let me take your arm again. Your movements will tell me what to expect, instead of having you push me before you.’ He stubbed his toe hard on a rock, and bit his lip. ‘You should warn me of obstacles.’

‘I’ll try.’

They crossed the distance Kirk had explored quite quickly, but then they were confronted by a small but bushy tree that had fallen across their path. Kirk looked at it anxiously, then up at Spock’s blind eyes, and the nurse nodded.

‘The metal’s straight ahead, Captain.’

‘I know, and the underground’s too dense either side.’

‘What is it, Captain?’ Spock asked.

‘A tree across the path,’ Kirk told him. ‘But don’t worry.’ He lifted the phaser he had salvaged from the cell, and aimed it at the tree, depressing the firing button. A pale beam lanced out, faltered, then faded away. ‘Damn!’ he exclaimed, pressing the button on and off. Nothing happened.

‘Captain?’

Kirk clipped the phaser back to his belt. ‘I must have drained it trying to get out of that cube. It’s useless.’

Of course, he meant his phaser, Spock realised.

‘So we must climb over the tree.’

‘It’s wide, Spock. There’s a whole mesh of branches.’

‘I’m sure I can manage if I know where everything is.’ Then he added rather too firmly, ‘I shall not let my state of health interfere with everyone’s safety.’

Kirk led him forward, and helped Spock break and hold aside as many of the interwoven branches as they could, until they were stopped by the bulk of the trunk.

‘Is it now passable?’ Spock asked.

‘That’s great, only be careful. There’s still branches on the other side.’

‘You may need to help me balance.’

The Vulcan clambered up onto the waist high pole, with Jim’s hands keeping him steady, and slipped over onto the ground the other side. Kirk climbed over to him and Spock found his arm and held it uneasily.

‘Good,’ the captain encouraged him. ‘Just smaller branches now. Lift your foot high and forward, then you’re on the other side. Only the other leg now. You’re over.’

Kirk realised he had sighed in relief. He felt Spock’s hand trembling on his arm when he joined the Vulcan on the other side. He couldn’t tell if it was nervousness or exhaustion. Then they were walking again on ground where Kirk had to continually warn Spock of hazards, and the thought left his mind.

 

They walked through the trees and undergrowth for almost another hour. Kirk had given up his running commentary to Spock when the Vulcan seemed to stop listening, and the small group had been silent for half that time. Spock was moving with his eyes closed and head hanging – Kirk guessed he was trying to conserve his energy for the sole task of walking.

‘Captain.’

Kirk jumped, and turned to see Chapel pointing. He followed the nurse’s finger with apprehension and saw a winding river carved deep into the forest floor, sparkling in the greenish sunlight.

‘Hang on, Spock,’ he muttered, as they reached the bank.

The Vulcan almost walked into him as Kirk stopped. Then his head raised, eyes opened, as if he were waking from sleep.

‘Running water,’ he stated.

‘A river,’ Kirk said quietly. ‘Maybe two or three metres across – but there’s no way round. We could get over dry, one by one over the stones – ’

‘But I cannot,’ Spock finished. ‘Jim – ’

‘We’re not leaving you here, if that’s what you’re about to suggest. You’ve done things harder and more dangerous.’

‘Captain, I have already held you back enough by my weakness. I suggest you leave me, and come back once you have called the _Enterprise_.’

‘We might not be able to find the _Enterprise_ , or the station. I can’t leave you here on your own.’

Spock closed his eyes. He felt as if everything was suddenly collapsing – his will as well as his strength. His legs were only moving because he couldn’t let go of Jim’s arm, and Jim wouldn’t stop walking. Every movement made his body ache through with tiredness, and his mind was beginning to feel thick and numb. He couldn’t cope with any more of this forced exertion, of this darkness and tiredness. His death would be the best option anyway. He drew a deep, unsteady breath.

‘Captain, my arms are shaking, my legs are shaking, I cannot think efficiently. I can hardly force myself to keep rationalising logically, and I do not care if I am left here alone and never found. I only want to sleep. I can keep walking on level, solid earth, but I cannot cross a three metre wide river on wet stones without seeing where my feet are going.’

‘Spock, you’ve never been afraid of hurting yourself before.’

‘I am tired, Jim.’

‘Spock – ’ Kirk hesitated, then pushed ahead. ‘Spock, if it were just dark you wouldn’t think twice about it,’ he said sharply. ‘You’re only nervous because you’re blind and we can see. Now you know that’s illogical, don’t you? Don’t use your blindness as an excuse to bottle out.’ He stopped, seeing Spock wince under the harsh words.

‘Captain, I did not blind myself on purpose. I do not like groping around in this blackness,’ Spock retorted, finally letting emotion slip through. ‘Do you think it doesn’t humiliate me, being so helpless? Make me feel inferior? I did not wish to be blind!’

‘Spock, you’re not helpless or inferior. You are perfectly competent, and the first one who says you’re not is a liar. Please, Spock. I won’t leave you here alone. You’ll die.’

‘How deep is the water?’ Spock asked levelly.

‘Only knee high. The surface is about two feet below the top of the bank.’ Kirk’s tone was kinder now. He knew this sudden collapse in Spock’s will had more to do with the confused emotions he was experiencing than with just crossing a river, or just tiredness. He dropped a leaf in the river and watched it being whipped away by the fast moving water. ‘There’s a current, but I’ll help you.’

‘Thank you, Captain.’

‘I’m sorry I had to talk to you like that.’

‘You hardly spoke the truth,’ Spock said quietly. ‘My darkness was a factor, but my legs are hardly holding me any longer. I feel very close to collapse.’

‘I can see you’re very tired – that’s why I’m trying to get you back to the ship.’

‘I need to rest first, Jim.’

‘I want to get you across the river, then you can rest,’ Kirk told him.

He just wanted to get it behind them, before Spock changed his mind. He looked into the Vulcan’s eyes, instinctively wanting to give reassurance through them, but he was met by the startling brown blankness. He restrained himself with difficulty from giving the Vulcan a comforting hug. He tried to keep his voice calm and level.

‘Christine and I will stand either side of you, so you can’t fall. I’ll test every stone you stand on.’ Kirk clambered down to stand in the water by the bank, and took both of Spock’s hands, hoping he sent some reassurance through the firm grip. ‘Come on. I’ll hold you if you slip. Step forward a little. And again.’

Slowly Kirk shuffled Spock to the edge of the river and stepped back to make room. Spock sat on the bank and lowered himself in. Cold water flowed in over the tops of his boots before his feet touched the bottom. He stood unsteadily as the nurse came beside him.

<You’ll be all right.> Her voice was in his mind.

Spock didn’t answer, concentrating hard as Kirk guided him step by step over slippery, treacherous stones. The Vulcan could feel his palms growing damp as he gripped his friends’ hands tightly. The current pushed at his legs with amazing force, trying to pull his feet from under him. At one point he slipped and almost fell, but the people either side took his weight, and made him stand upright again. Then he was stepping up again, feeling dry earth crumble and stick on his wet feet. His knees weakened and collapsed, and he sank onto safe, solid ground.

‘Spock?’ Kirk was bending over him in concern.

Spock unstuck his hands from the helping arms and pressed them onto the hard earth, then he pulled off his boots and emptied the water out of them. ‘I’m all right, Jim.’

Kirk smiled. ‘I’m proud of you, Spock,’ was all he said, but Chapel saw some colour return to the Vulcan’s face. His lips didn’t move, but there was a definite impression that he was smiling. He wiped the earth off his hands, and sighed.

‘I should sit here for a few minutes.’

‘You definitely should,’ Kirk said, sitting down beside him, looking ruefully at his soaked home-made sandals. ‘I want my shoes to dry out.’

He smiled, and looked at Spock, but he was shocked when he really looked at his face. It was almost grey, drawn and dirty. He wasn’t just saving energy by sitting down – he didn’t have any to save. Gradually, he felt a warm weight pressing against his side, and Spock’s head flopped sideways to rest on his shoulder.

‘Nurse,’ he said very softly, and she turned to look. ‘He’s really sick, isn’t he?’ he asked. ‘I thought he was stumbling so much because he can’t see, but he must have been absolutely exhausted. I thought he was more afraid to cross the river than too tired to.’

‘He was really tired,’ Chapel said coldly. ‘He’s been more holding on for support than guidance. And yes, he is really sick,’ she said, in answer to his first question. She put a hand gently on the Vulcan’s forehead, then passed her medical scanner over him. ‘His temperature’s low, energy levels are down, brain activity is slowed – reactions and thinking are slowed. He’s cold, exhausted and hungry. I know we’re both tired, sir, but I think we should keep moving. He needs a bed, and a doctor.’

‘He can’t walk,’ the captain protested.

‘Maybe you could carry him, sir. I don’t think he’ll wake up.’

‘I’ll try.’ Kirk carefully eased his arms under the Vulcan, then straightened up, grunting under the weight. ‘Thank God for low gravity,’ he said with a smile. ‘But even with that, I won’t be able to carry him a long way. Will he be able to walk later?’

‘He’s defying all the medical books as it is, using adrenaline and stubborn Vulcan determination. The gravity’s not that much lower than the ship – it’s a help to him, but there’ll come a point where he’s too tired for it to make any difference. He might manage another mile, with our help, but he certainly can’t take another day of this, even if we could rig up a stretcher to pull him on.’

 

Spock’s eyes snapped open abruptly, and he was overcome by a horrible feeling of dizzy vertigo. He realised he was slung over Kirk’s shoulder, his head hanging upside-down, and jolting with every step Kirk took, and he swallowed on the awful feeling of disorientation. He struggled to get out of the captain’s arms quickly, annoyed at his lapse.

‘Captain, I am sorry,’ he began.

‘You obviously needed to sleep, Spock,’ Kirk told him gently, lowering him to the ground. ‘And you have for an hour. We’ve come another few miles. Are you strong enough to walk now?’

‘I am fine, sir, thank you. Captain, I am sorry I was so unforgivably emotional earlier. The exhaustion was clouding my judgement. I find I have not been able to think efficiently since the explosion.’

‘I understand, Spock,’ Kirk told him. ‘You’re tired.’

‘I must put aside my own personal concerns if we are to reach – ’

‘Mr Spock, your personal concerns are all that matter,’ Chapel said firmly, pressing her hand onto the Vulcan’s shoulder. ‘You have to pace yourself – you can see that makes sense. We can’t manage to carry you constantly.’

‘I shall travel at my own pace,’ Spock said ambiguously. ‘And I am ready to carry on.’

‘Are you sure, Spock, or are you trying not to complain?’ Kirk asked quietly.

‘I can walk. I have slept an hour.’ He sensed Chapel’s concern, and said, ‘I am tired, Nurse, but not too tired to walk. That is the truth.’

‘Just barely, I think,’ Chapel said grimly.

The Vulcan stood up and began to walk again, before he could be ordered to lie down. Kirk quickly rushed forward and took his arm as he stepped toward a tree.

‘This way, Spock. Hang on a moment.’ He left Spock standing still, while he broke a long, sturdy stick from a tree. ‘Here. This might help.’ He silently hoped Spock would use the stick both to lean on and as a cane. Then he patted the Vulcan’s arm. ‘You’re really doing very well,’ he smiled. ‘I know it must be hard.’

He closed Spock’s hand around the stick, then looked up as a metallic glint caught his eye. Kirk quickened his pace until they reached the object. It wasn’t the building he had hoped for, but at least a sign of civilisation. He hurried to the other side. The notice had sloping type in relief, pressed in from behind. The two top lines were Vulcan, then below, Limit of science area 7, Vulcan exploration team, Kahlun.

‘We’re almost there,’ he told Spock excitedly.

‘What is it?’ Spock reached out and felt the cold metal under his palm. ‘Is this writing? What does it say?’

‘It’s a notice showing a sector boundary – science area seven.’ He grinned. ‘You can rest very soon, Spock.’

Spock nodded, and his knees almost collapsed at the prospect of at last finding somewhere he could lie down and sleep. Kirk held out an arm for the Vulcan to lean on.

‘Come on. We better find this science building.’

‘Thank you, Jim. The building should be close. My people would be very thorough in their studies, with only a small area being studied intensely by each team of scientists. Maybe you can see it?’

‘I think I can see something a way ahead.’

They went forward again, a building the size of a house gradually appearing through the trees. Abruptly Nurse Chapel stopped and touched Kirk’s arm.

‘I thought I saw a person,’ she whispered. ‘See how there’s windows right through one section? I saw a figure pass by on the other side of the building.’

‘Probably leaves blowing,’ Kirk suggested. ‘There’s no one here.’

‘Sir, I did see a person.’ She insisted so strongly that Kirk began to believe her.

‘I sense a life-form, Captain,’ Spock whispered, with the near-silence that only a Vulcan could achieve.

Then they all heard a twig crack, bringing back to Kirk’s mind with a rush all of Kor’s tales about stolen soldiers.

‘We don’t know who it is,’ the captain said in a worried tone. ‘It could even be a Klingon. Stay there, both of you.’ Then he added, ‘You’re in charge, Spock.’

Kirk left the two in the woods, and crept around the corner of the house. He saw a man standing in front of him, his back turned, facing the blinding sun. Slowly he crept over limp, foot-worn grass, then leapt at the man. He gave a startled cry, but gripped Kirk’s wrists in vice like hands, turning his attacker easily to face him. An eyebrow raised at the sight of the wild looking man in dirty, torn clothes. Kirk gasped as he realised the man he had tried to knock out was a Vulcan, in Starfleet uniform.

‘Who – ?’ he began.

‘I may ask you the same question,’ said the Vulcan in a smooth voice, his face showing only mild interest now. ‘I am Lieutenant Suran of the science vessel U.S.S Kozyrev. You are?’

‘I’m not about to fight a Vulcan.’ Kirk’s wrists were released and he straightened up. ‘I am Captain James T. Kirk of the starship _Enterprise_.’

The eyebrow, which had remained slightly elevated, rose fully again. ‘Indeed?’

Kirk almost laughed at the similarity between this man and Spock. ‘I can understand you being doubtful of my story. We were marooned on this planet.’

‘We? There are more?’

‘Another human and a Vulcan. They’re in the woods. The Vulcan’s quite ill. We picked up the metal in the building through one of our scanners, and we’ve spent half the morning trying to find the place.’

‘You will forgive me if I keep these.’ Suran pocketed the phaser and communicator that he had retrieved from Kirk’s belt. He eyed Kirk’s ragged clothes – it looked more as if he had torn them from a murdered corpse than earned the uniform himself. ‘If you are who you say you are you will have no need for them. Take me to the others.’

‘What are Vulcans doing here?’ Kirk asked curiously, walking back into the wood slightly ahead of the man.

‘There has been no in depth study of the animal life here. We are on a secondary mission, investigating the rate of planetary development. It is a fascinating study.’

‘I see.’ Kirk looked around for his companions, assuming they had hidden. ‘You can come out,’ he called. ‘They’re Vulcans.’

‘I do not see your friends,’ the Vulcan pointed out.

‘They are there,’ the captain promised. ‘Hey!’ he shouted again. ‘It’s okay! They’re Vulcan!’

Christine Chapel stole a quick glance around the thick tree they were behind, while Spock sat absolutely still, listening carefully.

‘He’s telling the truth,’ she told him. ‘The ground’s not too bad. Do you need help walking?’

Spock shook his head, reluctant to be seen leaning on the nurse. Chapel took his arm to lead him forward, and he stumbled after her.

‘It’s a Vulcan man,’ she said, leading him out of the forest. ‘He has dark brown hair, a little untidy. He’s wearing a Starfleet science uniform, with a lieutenant’s stripe. He’s taller than Captain Kirk, and thinner.’ She saw Kirk was still scanning the woods for them, and she waved a hand. ‘We’re here, Captain.’

‘I see them,’ Suran told Kirk. He stood still, waiting for them to reach him. ‘The Vulcan does look very unwell,’ he said with concern. ‘But there is something else – ’

‘Mr Spock is blind,’ the captain said. ‘He’s – not really accustomed to it yet.’

‘Most unfortunate.’

‘We’re also tired and footsore,’ Kirk said, indicating his sorry sandals. ‘Maybe there’s somewhere we could rest, or even get a change of clothes?’

‘Of course. You must come inside,’ he invited, raising his voice to Spock and Chapel. ‘Are these people part of your crew, Captain Kirk?’

Kirk nodded. ‘Commander Spock, Science Officer and First Officer of the  _Enterprise_ , and Lieutenant Chapel, Head Nurse.’

‘Science Officer,’ the Vulcan mused. ‘Fascinating. I am Lieutenant Suran, of the Kozyrev.’

He bowed his head to Chapel briefly, but his attention was on Spock. He indicated the building with his hand and they began to walk toward it.

‘There are a number of discoveries that would no doubt interest you, Commander Spock,’ Suran said courteously.

‘Science invariably interests me,’ Spock replied just as politely.

‘I have heard of your name. You are son of Sarek of Vulcan.’

‘Correct.’ Spock’s reply was curt this time, indicating that his family was his own concern.

The Vulcan was not put off. ‘I have read your fascinating articles in science journals throughout the galaxy. It is an honour, sir.’

‘I appreciate your interest,’ Spock said as they entered the building.

‘We are passing through the computer room,’ Suran continued. ‘We have two rows of GS124 Vulcan computers.’

‘I see,’ Spock nodded, deliberately ignoring Suran’s invitation to talk. The computers were of the latest Vulcan technology, but he didn’t want to become enmeshed in talking about computers he couldn’t use.

They were taken into a comfortable looking lounge, and invited to sit down. Kirk glanced around at the strange Vulcan ornaments on the walls, then sank down into a chair, while Suran went to find fresh clothes.


	13. Chapter 13

Soon the three were clothed in comfortable, clean blue overalls, and they were back in the small but homely looking lounge. Kirk had flopped down into a padded armchair, and Chapel sat tiredly on a sofa next to Spock, opposite their host. Suran’s intense gaze at the blind Vulcan was beginning to make her feel uneasy. She leant forward and picked a small titbit off a plate of food on the table in front of her. Kirk was eating eagerly, and even Spock had taken a small glass of some kind of fruit juice, and was picking at a plate of the traditional Vulcan food.

<He’s staring at you,> she whispered in mindlink to Spock.

<What?>

The startled reply was overhung with heavy sleepiness, and she realised Spock had been dozing off. She knew he was exhausted, but he wouldn’t ask for rest again. She gently put his glass straight in his hand again, before the red juice spilled, then repeated;

<Suran is staring at you.>

<He is fascinated. He said so himself.>

<He doesn’t have to stare.>

Chapel blinked, aware that she had started to stare back at Suran. She pressed her hand over her mouth and yawned discreetly. From the way her limbs ached, she was beginning to think that maybe sleeping on the ground wasn’t as restful as a bed, after all. Kirk noticed the yawn.

‘Are you tired, Christine?’

‘A little. It’s been a hard few days. But Mr Spock’s the one who really needs to rest.’

‘Nurse, I am – ’

‘Almost asleep,’ she finished for the Vulcan.

‘You both are,’ Kirk said. ‘Is there somewhere they could sleep?’ he asked Suran.

‘Certainly.’ Chapel saw a flicker of emotion as the Vulcan’s eyes passed over Spock again, then it was gone.

‘You should rest too, sir,’ she prompted Kirk, but he shook his head.

‘I have to contact the _Enterprise_. I’ll rest later.’

‘If you will both follow me,’ Suran invited the two.

The nurse let Spock take her arm and they stood. Suran bowed slightly, letting them pass, and took them along a short passage, then stairs. He seemed to watch anxiously as Spock stumbled exhaustedly up the steps, then indicated a door at the top. It opened onto a long, unused looking room with a low ceiling.

‘The science team here occupies the beds downstairs,’ Suran explained. ‘We do not fill the station to its maximum capacity. My colleagues are in the forest, working. They left me – I think you would say, minding the store.’

Chapel counted seven comfortable looking beds arranged along the room, each with the option of a fold-out screen to enclose the single sleeping area, in typical Vulcan respect of privacy.

‘This looks fine,’ she said gratefully, eager to sink into a soft bed.

‘The building has dust extractors,’ the tall Vulcan scientist promised. ‘It is quite clean.’

‘I’m sure it is.’

He shook out a quilt and pillow. ‘Commander Spock, there is a bed here,’ he said, taking the Vulcan’s hand and helping him to it. ‘You appear to be extremely weak – you should sleep,’ he added.

‘I fully intend to.’

‘Mr Spock, I’ll be back in a moment,’ Chapel said to him. She stepped through the door and Suran followed.

‘He is exhausted,’ the Vulcan said when the door had closed. ‘He seemed extremely faint and distant, and he is hardly speaking.’

‘He has been very ill.’

‘When he is asleep I shall minister to him – I am a doctor in addition to my scientific training. There is a restorative of Vulcan origin that should be of some use – I would not expect you to carry it. But did you wish to ask something of me?’

‘Do you know Mr Spock?’ Chapel asked bluntly.

Suran’s eyebrow lifted. ‘Why the question?’

‘You were staring at him, and there were times when I saw emotion on your face.’

‘If it is Spock, son of Sarek and son of Amanda, I know him. How long has he been without sight?’

‘Almost two months. It was a phaser coolant explosion – if you’re a doctor you should know the results. He’s been in bed since it happened. You’re the first person he’s seen outside of sickbay.’

‘He has not seen a Vulcan healer?’

‘No.’

‘And he has not told his parents,’ Suran said almost sadly. ‘I have seen Spock occasionally, through his parents,’ he explained. ‘Of course, he would not recognise mine, and perhaps would not recall me. Commander Spock is rather more unique than I am.’

‘So you know his parents?’

‘I speak to them often. My father was acquainted with Sarek, and the friendship passed to me when he died. But this is not my affair. I really should not speak of it with you.’

‘Please. You can’t stop now.’

‘I respect a Vulcan’s privacy. If Spock did not want to tell his parents it is no concern of mine.’

‘It is if you really are their friend. Don’t they even know he was in an accident?’

Suran locked his fingers together and gazed into the hollow they made. Then he looked up and shook his head. ‘I spoke with his parents only two weeks previously. I enquired about their son. They said he was in perfect health. They would have no reason to conceal his blindness from me. It is a logical deduction that he has not told them. I know his parents – his human mother – would be upset to hear of it from another than him.’

‘The emotional shock was very hard for him. I’m sorry. I don’t suppose you’d understand that, would you?’

‘What I do not understand is how he is still alive.’

‘What do you mean?’ Chapel asked nervously.

‘He has lost his sight, he has not seen a mind healer. Without treatment, most Vulcans would have taken their lives by now.’

‘He – has talked about it.’

‘Good,’ Suran said firmly. At Chapel’s look of surprise, he said, ‘Statistics show that the death rate is higher in Vulcan who do not express their desire to die. If he has verbalised his wish, he is more likely to be able to understand the negative consequences, and to decide against the action.’

‘I – better go talk to him,’ Chapel said slowly. ‘Thank you for telling me about his parents.’

The Vulcan nodded, then turned to walk sedately back down the stairs. Christine Chapel slipped back through the door and went to Spock’s bed. The Vulcan was lying down, but he was far from asleep.

‘Mr Spock, why aren’t you sleeping?’ she asked.

‘May I ask what were you confiding about with Suran? I heard my name more than once.’

‘He says he knows you.’

Spock thought for a moment. ‘Suran. Yes, of course – he has stayed with my family on occasion – but I hardly know him...’

‘He spoke to your parents not long ago. You haven’t told them, have you?’

‘Why should I inform my parents that Suran spoke to them? Surely they are aware of that fact.’

She sighed, and smiled slightly. ‘You’re deliberately avoiding the question, Mr Spock. They don’t know that you’re blind – they don’t even know about the accident. Why didn’t you tell them?’

‘My mother would be devastated. My father – ’ Spock stopped with a slight shake of his head, and closed his eyes.

‘What about him?’

‘I am already a disappointment to him. Now for him to also learn that his son is blind – ’

‘He won’t think any less of you for that. I’m sure he cares.’

‘He is Vulcan.’

‘You’re his son. You have to tell them. At least tell your mother. So many people know already – I’m surprised the journalists didn’t get to them. You don’t know how hard it was to keep them from speaking to you – one even beamed up pretending to be a doctor doing a spot check on our sickbay.’

‘I didn’t know I attract so much media attention.’

‘You’re the son of the Vulcan ambassador, the first Vulcan-human, the first officer of the most famous ship in the fleet. I would have thought your parents would be the first people they’d go after – after you. We thought it was best to keep them away from you – they would have just taken films of you in sickbay, spread them all over the galaxy – I hope we did right?’

‘Yes, of course. But my parents were not available. My mother thought Sarek needed rest, without interruption. They went to a secret destination for a holiday – not long before the accident. I was the only one to whom they told their address. Maybe by the time they returned the media attention had shifted to more up-to-date concerns.’

‘They still need to know, Mr Spock – they’re going to find out in the end, and it’s better they find out from you than through gossip or journalists.’

‘You are right. I should do it now.’

‘I didn’t mean you should do it right away – you can do it from the ship, after a rest.’

‘No,’ he said resolutely. ‘You will take me back downstairs. That is an order, Nurse.’

Chapel sighed – he really couldn’t order her, because he was off duty, and under her care, but it would be best to let him do it, then maybe he would sleep. Spock let her help him slowly downstairs, then a door swooshed open – a slightly different sound to the  _Enterprise_ , he noticed – and he heard the captain’s voice.

‘Kirk to _Enterprise_. Yes. En-ter-prise. E – n – t – e – r – p – r – i – s – e. Star-ship,’ he said slowly and clearly. His voice sounded strained and Chapel quickly restrained his raised fist from thumping the communications console.

‘What’s the matter, sir?’

‘This damn relay station orbiting Denebola. They’ve got a crazy Andorian operator who doesn’t speak two words of English, and their automatic translator’s broken down. I think he wants to know why a Federation captain is calling his own ship from a Vulcan science outpost via a non-Federation relay.’ He suddenly registered that the two were both back downstairs. ‘I thought I told you both to sleep!’

‘Sir,’ Spock said. ‘I know a few words of Andorian. By the tone of your voice you are likely to disable the console before we get through.’

‘I guess you can try.’ Kirk got up with a shrug. ‘Go ahead, Spock.’

Spock felt the back of a chair in front of him, and slipped around to sit down. ‘Is the screen on, sir?’

‘Yes.’ Kirk leant over his shoulder and touched a button. ‘Sound on now too, Spock. He’s ready to talk.’

The blue skinned, antennaed man on the screen immediately began to gibber excitedly in a strange language, then Spock raised his hand and shook his head. The sight of the impassive Vulcan seemed to calm the man a little. Then there was a slow conversation, in which the only words the humans could pick up were  _Enterprise_ , Kirk and then the single word Vulcan. At that point the operator smiled broadly, and began to speak fluently in a totally different language, which Kirk realised was Vulcan. A few seconds later the picture shimmered, to be replaced by the agitated face of Scott, on the bridge of the  _Enterprise_ .

‘Mr Spock?’ he asked curiously, then peered forward again. ‘Captain Kirk!’ His face creased into a wide smile. ‘We thought we’d lost you, sir. What happened?’

Spock made as if to get up, but Kirk held him in the chair, and swivelled the screen up to his own face instead, smiling with relief at the sight of his chief engineer.

‘Scotty, we got into a spot of bother, and we ended up here. Can you come pick us up?’

‘Where are you, sir?’

‘Science station 7, on Delta Zozma 3.’

‘Delta Zozma? Sir, how did you leave the ship? We reported a power surge, but – ’

‘It’s a guess, but I think it’s the same thing that’s been happening to the Klingons. We were captured by some alien, and – studied.’

‘We recorded the presence of an alien life form, but I canna find a trace of it now. It seems to have left us for good.’

‘Jim!’ McCoy had bounded onto the bridge and was now standing behind Scott. ‘Where the devil have you been? I hope you’ve got my top nurse and her patient with you.’

‘We are here, and unharmed,’ Spock said calmly.

‘You should be in bed,’ McCoy said quickly. ‘You look like death warmed up.’

‘I am well enough. I am waiting to contact my parents.’

‘Your parents?’ The voice was Scott again. ‘Mr Spock, we’ve just picked them up.’

‘My parents are on the ship?’

‘Aye. We’re passing near Vulcan, and we’re taking them and their aides back there. They’ve been to a conference on Alnair.’

‘Do not tell them of this.’ Spock lightly touched his eyes. ‘They do not know yet.’

‘Aye, sir. Not a word. I’ll make sure of it.’

‘Spock!’ McCoy leaned towards the screen. ‘What’s that wound on your neck?’

Spock realised that the long wound must be visible above his collar, and he felt it with his fingers.

‘We were taken off the ship by some being,’ Kirk explained. ‘She decided to practice vivisection on us. But she only got to Spock before we got out of there.’

‘Good thing. Nurse Chapel?’

‘Yes, Doctor?’ She stepped forward.

‘What’s your opinion of Mr Spock’s condition?’

‘He was injured inside by the alien, but his self-healing processes have mended that. But he is weak and exhausted.’

‘Then make him lie down, and make sure he sleeps. Don’t let him up until we arrive.’

‘Yes, Doctor. I will.’

‘Scotty,’ Kirk remembered quickly. ‘Has anyone been in rec. room seven since we disappeared?’

‘I’d doubt it, sir. The ship’s been on red alert.’

‘Seal it off, and have it monitored. That’s where we were taken from. There was a faint purple light before we disappeared. Brief everyone that if they see something strange like that, alert security and on no account touch it.’

‘Aye, Captain. And we’ll be with you as soon as we can, sir. I’m afraid our search radius took us away from Zozma at first...’

‘Very good, Mr Scott. Kirk out.’ Kirk turned the screen off and turned to face Spock, comparing him with the other Vulcan, who hovered in the background. ‘You’re very pale, Spock. Better get him to bed, Nurse.’

‘Yes, sir.’ She put Spock’s hand on her arm and turned to leave.

‘And you sleep too,’ Kirk said firmly.

‘Yes, Captain.’ She walked into the passage. ‘Mr Spock. What will you say to your parents when you see them?’

‘Likely I shall need to say nothing.’ He turned his solemn face for her to see. ‘Is it not obvious?’

‘In a Vulcan, no. Human’s eyes tend to flit around, but you hold them steady anyway. We’re coming to the stairs up now. The rail’s on your left.’

Spock nodded, and stepped up after her, letting the conversation drop as he concentrated through his tiredness on not tripping on the stairs. Chapel steered him into the dormitory and to his bed. He lay down and relaxed, trying to withdraw into a meditative state.

‘That’s not sleep,’ Chapel objected.

‘It is rest,’ Spock replied evenly. ‘I have a lot to think about.’

‘Your parents?’

‘Yes.’

‘Take care of that problem when you see them. Your mind needs rest too. I’ve still got sedatives in my medical kit. You don’t want your father to find you in sickbay too doped to open your eyes?’

‘No. I don’t.’ Spock let his mind relax further. Once Chapel was satisfied he was asleep, she sat back on another bed, gazing out of the window at the forest spreading below.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapel and Kirk had both had time to sleep and eat and sleep again before the call came to say the  _Enterprise_ had arrived. Kirk had been awake to answer the comm, and now he came back up to the bedroom, wondering if Spock would wake when he called him. He smiled at Chapel’s peaceful face, then bent down over Spock, touching his shoulder. The Vulcan’s face was completely relaxed, but not so pale now.

‘Spock,’ Kirk said quietly. ‘Spock?’

Spock flinched, and his eyes opened slowly. ‘Has the ship arrived?’

‘Yes – they just called.’

‘How long was I asleep?’ he asked, knowing it had been too long, and that he should not have let himself lose track of time.

‘Eighteen hours – probably not long enough.’

Spock paused to consider that, then raised an eyebrow. ‘Actually, I feel surprisingly refreshed.’

‘Suran gave you some kind of Vulcan tonic just after you fell asleep. The nurse has the formula. He wouldn’t come up to say goodbye – he said he couldn’t disturb his research.’

‘Of course,’ Spock nodded with full understanding. ‘Captain, my parents – ’

‘Scotty’s keeping them out of the transporter room and Bones’ll let them into sickbay when you’re ready. We didn’t think you’d want to hit them with – the shock – as soon as you materialise.’

‘That seems wise,’ he said, beginning to sit up, and listening to the noises in the room. ‘Is Chapel awake?’

‘Not yet.’ Kirk turned to Chapel’s bed and shook her shoulder. ‘Christine,’ he said near her ear. ‘Time to go, sleepyhead.’

‘What?’ She sat up slowly, rubbing her eyes. ‘They’re here?’ she asked sleepily.

‘Already in orbit. They’re ready for beam up on my order. Spock – ’

Spock stood up and stepped towards Kirk’s voice until Jim’s hand stopped him. He heard a communicator chirrup as Kirk flipped the grille open. He must have put it back together after it being cannibalised for the scanner, or borrowed one from Suran.

‘Kirk to _Enterprise_ ,’ Kirk said smartly. ‘Scotty, energise.’

The three turned into shimmering gold as the transporter hummed. Spock experienced the brief flash of dazzling sight he had hoped for, and tried to take in every colour and shape that appeared before him. Then the flood of light was snatched away, and they were on the  _Enterprise_ .

Scott stepped from behind the operating panels. ‘Welcome aboard, sir, and welcome back,’ he said earnestly.

Kirk noticed the tiredness and relief in the man’s face as he spoke, and he smiled. He was sure Scott had been on duty since they disappeared.

‘Get to your quarters, Scotty,’ he ordered. ‘I’ll take over on the bridge.’

‘But, sir – ’ Scott protested.

‘You’re tired. Go on. That’s an order.’

There was obvious reluctance in Scott’s face, but he nodded obediently. ‘Aye, sir. Mr Spock, are you well?’ he asked with concern, turning to the Vulcan. ‘Everyone was near frantic.’

‘I am fine, Mr Scott,’ Spock answered. ‘Thank you for your concern. Thank you, Mr Scott,’ he said more firmly, freezing as the man tried to help him down from the transporter. ‘I can use steps without help.’

‘We wouldn’t want anything to happen to you,’ Scott pressed.

‘I was traversing two steps – I am unlikely to harm myself even if I did fall,’ Spock assured him. ‘I am absolutely fascinated by the human instinct to protect what is already injured. Surely my loss would be of less damage to the ship than that of a fit and healthy crewmember, and yet every person here persists in protecting me from the smallest of dangers.’

‘Scotty, go to bed,’ Kirk said firmly, trying to break up the conversation before Scott could be insulted and Spock could be smothered in overprotection. Scott shook his head, leaving the room reluctantly.

‘The doctor’s coming now,’ he said from the door.

‘I know, Scotty,’ Kirk smiled. ‘Now go sleep.’

As Spock stepped away from the transporter platform a hand took his arm.

‘We’d better get you right back to sickbay,’ McCoy said sternly. ‘You’re too pale. Apart from that, your mother’s straining to see you, and can’t understand why she couldn’t come to the transporter to meet you. Scotty got someone to give them a tour of his precious engine rooms, but I think they’re getting suspicious. Just walk, and I’ll guide you.’ He put his other arm around Spock’s back and pushed him forward. ‘Come on. I want a chance to examine you first.’

‘Doctor, you have already wasted five minutes,’ Spock replied stiffly, trying to tolerate the disturbing way the doctor was yanking him around.

McCoy pulled him toward the door, but promptly bundled him back again. ‘They’re out there. Jim, go distract them.’

‘Doctor, please stop that,’ Spock said sharply as McCoy pushed him back away from the door. ‘I am not baggage to be manhandled. Nurse Chapel, you may act as my guide where I need it.’

Kirk quickly went into the corridor and walked to meet the Vulcan and his wife.

‘Ambassador,’ he said, lightly touching his arm to turn him around. ‘Would you like to come see the bridge? I don’t think you saw that last time.’

The Vulcan raised an eyebrow a fraction of an inch, and Kirk was suddenly reminded of the subtle similarities between Spock and his father.

‘I have plenty of time, Captain,’ Sarek said quietly. ‘We will be on the ship a week.’

Kirk glanced past Sarek’s shoulder, to see Spock, McCoy and Chapel hurrying away. As they turned down another corridor he sighed in relief.

‘Maybe you’re right, sir,’ he said calmly. ‘Where were you going?’

The eyebrow raised a little higher. ‘I want to see my son, Captain. I was told he had just transported up – with you.’

‘He’s in sickbay right now. McCoy has to examine him.’

Spock’s mother turned to him, barely concealing her anxiety. ‘Why? What happened to him? Captain, people are acting strangely every time I mention my son’s name.’

‘It’s a long story, Mrs Sarek.’

‘I can’t help feeling that everybody’s trying to avoid telling me something. Now, I know that you’ve been missing from the ship. Was Spock hurt?’

‘The creature that took us operated on Spock to explore his physiology – but I assure you, he’s practically recovered from that by now. You know how quickly a Vulcan will heal.’

‘Yes, I do,’ she said, glancing at Sarek.

An orderly walked out of one of the rooms with a bundle of sheets. Amanda glanced sideways, then stepped quickly across the corridor to look into the room, then turned around again with a look of anger. ‘Captain – that room.’

‘It’s just a convalescent room,’ Kirk shrugged. He touched her arm to try to move her along, but she pulled away stiffly.

‘Convalescent? Captain, it is full of some of the things Spock treasures most, there are piles of books and discs that would take months to read, and I can smell my son in there.’

‘ _Smell_ Spock?’ Kirk asked. Spock was the cleanest person he knew.

‘Captain, if you were a parent, you would understand. That room smells like Spock, and he smells sick.’

‘I am forced to agree,’ Sarek nodded. ‘Captain, will you enlighten us?’

‘Spock has been ill for – a little while, but he is convalescing. Sarek, Amanda, maybe you can wait in the office, and then you can see Spock personally?’ Kirk indicated the door and showed them into McCoy’s office. ‘If you’d care to take a seat, I’ll go see how they’re doing.’

He slipped into the examination room, where Spock was changing disdainfully back into uniform. His face held obvious distaste over the whole examination procedure, the invasion of his Vulcan privacy, but Kirk knew he was glad to be wearing his uniform again.

‘How is he, Bones?’ Kirk asked the doctor.

McCoy put his scanner down on a desk, and turned to face Kirk with a shrug. ‘He’ll live,’ he said almost apologetically. ‘I sealed the rip down his front with something stronger than the catgut that was in it, and he’s already healed inside. I don’t know what your friend planetside gave him, but it helped. He just needs a lot of rest.’

‘I am quite used to being prescribed rest,’ Spock commented.

‘Pity you never do as you’re told then,’ the doctor grumbled. ‘I wouldn’t be patching you up now if you’d stayed in bed instead of going off on hikes around the ship. So much for a slow, gentle, undisturbed convalescence.’

‘You should know that’s impossible on this ship, Bones,’ Kirk grinned.

‘Guess I should,’ the doctor grunted. ‘Now, I’ve got you another cane from supplies, Spock,’ he said, putting it in the Vulcan’s hand. ‘I had a feeling you’d get through them fast once you were on your feet, so I ordered a whole batch. But just because you’re in your uniform and you’ve got that stick it doesn’t mean I want you going out tapdancing or anything.’

‘I assure you I have no intention of tapdancing,’ Spock said, sliding down from the table and pulling the wrinkles from his top.

He took McCoy’s arm and followed him through to the ward. The Vulcan sat down on a bed and turned his face towards the captain, keeping his back poker straight even though extreme tiredness was evident in his face.

‘Your parents are waiting,’ Kirk said softly. ‘And they’re both getting worried. I guess people didn’t know what to say if they asked how you were, then Amanda saw in your room... Shall I send them through?’

Spock sighed, and his head lowered as if suddenly the tiredness was too much to bear. ‘Yes,’ he said very quietly. ‘Please do.’

McCoy read the apprehension in Spock’s face. ‘Spock – er – your emotions are showing,’ he said awkwardly. The Vulcan immediately composed his face back to a mask of logic.

‘D’you want me to stay?’ the doctor asked.

Spock shook his head. ‘I appreciate the offer, but I should speak to my parents alone.’

‘I’ll be in my office then. I suppose it’d be illogical for me to wish you luck?’

‘Thank you, Dr McCoy,’ Spock replied gratefully.

The two humans left, and Spock lay down on the blanket, trying to eliminate the nervousness that he was sure his father would notice straight off. Two sets of footsteps approached, and he moved his dark eyes to follow the sound. One person – his mother, he assumed – sat down.

‘Spock, it’s so good to see you again,’ his mother said quietly before he had a chance to speak. Even her learned Vulcan reserve couldn’t hide the warmth and the worry in her voice. ‘How do you feel?’

‘A little tired, but otherwise I am in good enough health.’ At least he was managing to keep the shakiness out of his voice.

‘Spock, are you sure?’ Amanda asked anxiously, unconvinced. ‘You look terrible.’

‘I am fine, I assure you – simply tired.’ He turned his head towards where he had heard Sarek stop. He could hear him breathing, feel the slight warmth that radiated from the hotter-blooded Vulcan in a human-suited environment. McCoy had changed the air conditioning in his convalescent room to mimic the heat of Vulcan, and he had forgotten how cold the ship sometimes seemed.

‘Hello, father,’ he said quietly.

‘Spock,’ Sarek nodded.

‘I wasn’t aware of your coming until earlier today. Mr Scott said you attended a conference?’

‘There was a minor war between two states on Alnair. Easily resolved if the correct methods of negotiation are used.’ Sarek paused, then said quietly, ‘Spock, would you look at me, and not past my shoulder? It does not bode well for our relationship that you show such disrespect.’

Spock turned his head more towards the voice. ‘Father, I must explain something – ’

‘I do not ask for excuses,’ Sarek cut through. ‘I simply ask for an appropriate use of manners when – ’

‘Father, please listen,’ Spock broke in desperately. ‘I cannot look at you.’

‘What?’ His mother’s voice was frightened. ‘Spock, what’s wrong with your eyes? You don’t see us, do you?’

‘No. Mother, I was blinded, some time ago.’

‘And you didn’t tell us?’

‘I did not wish to worry you.’

Spock felt his mother’s hand take his and hold it tightly, and he knew she was crying. Sarek’s face had paled, but he stood silently, not betraying any sign of emotion. He walked quietly away and returned with a chair, then sat by Spock’s bed. He reached out silently to touch Amanda’s hand, but his voice was neutral.

‘How did this happen to you, Spock? How long ago?’

‘Seven weeks. There was a phaser malfunction on a newly built starship, the _Italia_. I was sent to aid their engineers with the problem. Coolant gas had leaked into the controls, and heated up. When I removed the inspection hatch and exposed it to the air, it blew up. The ensign with me was killed. I – was blinded and burned badly. That is why I’m in sickbay now.’

‘You must have received serious burns – but surely there are facilities on starships to treat burned eyes?’

‘There was a bare minimum of medical equipment on the _Italia_. By chance Dr McCoy was aboard and could treat me – I presume he saved my life. We have never spoken of it. But it was the coolant that blinded me, not the burns. As a stable gas it can kill a person, but when it explodes a change takes place in the atomic structure. The new gas is not deadly, but it is debilitating, and when it touches the eye it promotes the growth of abnormal, opaque cells over the pupil. I think it is noticeable in my eyes.’

‘Yes.’ Sarek’s eyes fell on his son’s and saw the dull pink-black barrier covering the pupils. ‘I can see it. It is permanent?’

‘There is a 5.23% chance of recovery. I assume that it will be permanent.’

Amanda looked up, shocked at his calm tone. ‘Spock, aren’t you upset? Don’t you feel about this?’

‘I have been through the grieving process, mother, and I am coming to terms with what has happened.’

‘And you, Sarek? You sit there asking him what happened, and listening to the scientific explanation. Don’t you feel any emotion at all? He’s your son.’

‘I am aware of that fact.’

‘And you just don’t care, do you?’

Spock tightened his hand around his mother’s. ‘Mother. Sarek must do what is logical.’

Sarek stood and looked down unemotionally at Spock. ‘You will excuse me. I must go to my quarters to meditate.’

‘Sarek!’ Amanda leapt to her feet, furious emotion hardly held in check.

‘Amanda, you are becoming hysterical,’ Sarek told her quietly.

‘I don’t care. At least it shows that I care about my own son. Our son.’

‘Spock chose to join Starfleet against my wishes. This is what he has gained from Starfleet. Blindness.’

Spock closed his eyes, and tried not to listen to the distressing argument, as his mother exploded, ‘This has nothing to do with Spock joining Starfleet! It’s not a judgement from God because he defied you! How can you listen to Spock telling you he has been blind for two months without even letting us know, and then calmly walk away from him, without even saying you’re sorry, or that you care about him?’

‘Amanda, what has happened, has happened. It cannot be changed by tears and shouting.’ Sarek caught his wife’s wrist as her hand came up to strike him. ‘There is no need for violence. You must come and meditate with me, to calm yourself.’

‘I have no intention of calming myself. I am staying with my son.’

‘As you wish.’ Sarek turned and walked away, leaving behind a frozen atmosphere in the room. Amanda went after him to the door, then turned limply and flopped into a chair in the corner, trying to stifle her tears.

‘Mother?’ Spock got up out of his bed. ‘Mother, please don’t cry.’

He walked forward, holding out his arms until they touched his mother’s shaking shoulders. It did feel good to be touching her at last. She put her arms around him, and held him tightly for a long time.

‘Spock, you should try to speak to your father,’ she said at last.

‘I do not wish to stand in a silent room speaking to the air,’ Spock told her softly. ‘Sarek will not speak to me.’

‘Spock, your father is stubborn, but he isn’t cruel,’ she said firmly. ‘He wouldn’t let you stand in darkness and not say a word to you.’

Spock shook his head. ‘I do not want him to speak to me because I cannot see. I simply want him to accept me, in my chosen career, with my blindness. I am too tired to argue with him now.’

‘Spock, you know he’s more accepting now – he was just very shocked and very upset. Oh, Spock.’ She looked up at him, and shook her head, touching his expressionless face. ‘I know you’re hurting inside, under all this brave Vulcan front.’

‘Human – and Vulcan – emotions have their curses as well as their benefits,’ he said tonelessly.

‘Spock, I am so sorry,’ his mother repeated. It seemed so inadequate, but she couldn’t think of any other way to express her grief. ‘I just wish I’d known...’

‘I know I should have called you after the accident, or had someone speak to you, but I thought my own grief was enough, without making you suffer,’ he tried to explain.

‘Spock, why do you always think you have to be alone?’ Amanda asked him tearfully. ‘We would have come, straight away.’

‘And it would have torn my father away from his duty, you away from your teaching, or torn both of you apart.’

‘Our first duty is to _you_. We would have come, Spock. I should have been with you...’

‘Just to have you here now is comfort enough to me,’ he assured her. ‘It would have been worse for you to see me when I was still burned and without strength.’

‘Oh, my child,’ Amanda sighed, then looked up at his face. ‘Spock, sit down. You’re exhausted.’

‘I am quite well.’

‘You look terribly tired, and you’re very thin, Spock.’

‘I am putting weight back on.’ He paused, changing the subject. ‘There is a mirror on the wall to your right, mother. You may tidy your face.’

Amanda went to the mirror, and he followed with his hand on her shoulder. She stared at the reflected image of her own face, and Spock’s above it, trying to come to terms with the fact that her son had been blind and too weak to stand for two months, without her knowing. He stood very straight behind her, his face calm and impassive, but she knew the silent, hidden feelings that churned inside him. She was not Vulcan, but she had always known what her son was thinking and feeling behind his shields of logic. And his eyes looked vulnerable, staring out from the mirror into oblivion.

‘Spock, h-how much can you see?’ she asked hesitantly.

‘Nothing at all,’ Spock told her gently. ‘I am – stone blind.’ When she took hold of his hand and stroked it, he asked, ‘Is that not what humans call it?’

‘In the past.’

She felt as if she had been kicked in the stomach.  _I will get used to it_ , she told herself firmly, but she realised she couldn’t look at his empty brown eyes without wanting to cry. She quickly focused on her own face and tried to blot out the tear tracks.

‘Did you want to go somewhere, Spock?’

‘Yes, if you will come with me. I still feel very unused to this – this odd lack of visual reference. I am not confident of going out alone yet.’

‘Do you – need me to help you?’

‘Just let me hold your arm. Walk a little in front of me, and tell me when we approach variants in the floor level. Tell me whether they go up or down.’

‘Are there any?’

‘A few. Sometimes the floor rises over a slightly larger pipe than usual, or a part of machinery. I still find myself quite unsteady without vision to orient myself, and it is disconcerting to suddenly have the floor drop from under my feet, or rise up before me.’

‘Of course it is.’

Spock reluctantly released his grip on his mother’s shoulder and went to pick up the cane that he had left beside his bed.

‘I am ready,’ he said. Amanda came to him and he took her arm. ‘Do you remember the way to my room?’

‘I can find it.’ She took him out of the ward, passing through McCoy’s office into the corridor. Chapel watched them leave, then turned to confront McCoy.

‘Shouldn’t he be resting, Doctor? He’s still very weak.’

McCoy shook his head from behind his desk. ‘You said he slept until the  _Enterprise_ arrived. He’s still running on adrenaline, and he needs some time alone with his parents. If he’s away too long I’ll go find him.’

‘Doctor, you know he’s masking how tired he is. He did it all the time we were off the ship. He’s ready to drop.’

‘I know, Christine,’ McCoy said sympathetically. ‘But he’s only a minute away from sickbay, wherever he is, and he really does need this time with his parents.’

‘I don’t think he’ll be spending so much time with Ambassador Sarek,’ Chapel said meaningfully.

‘It’s hard for Sarek too, Christine,’ McCoy said gently. ‘He’s just as shaken by this as any of us – or more so. It’s just if he feels any affection for his son, it’s hard for him to show it.’

‘Maybe,’ Christine said, getting to her feet.

‘Where are you going?’

She stopped at the door. ‘Oh – just to my room. I’ll be back before my shift starts. I have to change.’

‘Okay, but I don’t want you coming back for your shift – Howley’s already rostered on, and you need some rest. And you’re limping, Christine. Better let me take a look at that.’

‘It’s only sore feet. We had to walk a long way.’

‘I guess you did – all the more reason to rest.’

‘I’ve been resting for eighteen hours, Doctor.’ She sighed. ‘I have something to do on deck five – then I’ll rest, I promise.’

McCoy laughed as she went through the door. He swept up a cluster of discs from his desk, and put them away, checked on his patients, then flicked on his desk intercom to make a call to the planet below.


	15. Chapter 15

Kirk swivelled his large black chair around as McCoy bounced onto the bridge.

‘Bones. What brings you up here in such a hurry?’

‘An idea. A pretty good one too.’

‘Modesty was always your best feature,’ Kirk laughed. ‘What is it?’

‘We don’t have to be at our next assignment for a while, do we?’ McCoy asked evasively.

Kirk shook his head. ‘We have a week to indulge ourselves. Command thinks we deserve it. That’s why we’re ferrying Spock’s parents to Vulcan. What’s your brilliant idea?’

‘Spock’s been through a hell of a time, Jim – he’s totally run down physically and spiritually. Don’t you think he needs a rest?’

‘He has weeks of leave time accumulated – but he’s been in sickbay for almost two months.’

‘Recovering, not resting. He needs a holiday.’

‘Spock?’ Kirk couldn’t help grinning. ‘Spock never takes holidays. His life is his work. Anyway, isn’t he too ill to leave the ship?’

‘This may sound old fashioned, Jim, but he needs fresh air. He’s weak and run down, and living with recycled air and a constant temperature doesn’t help. And it’ll be good for him to get out of sickbay for a while. He’s been in there since the accident happened.’

‘But is he strong enough, especially after the last few days?’

‘Sitting or lying outside in the sun won’t be much harder from lying in sickbay. Provided he takes a lot of rest and sleep, and doesn’t over-exert himself, a holiday could be just what he needs to get his strength back.’

‘Maybe,’ Kirk nodded. ‘He certainly isn’t his normal healthy self – but what about mentally? Is he ready, emotionally, to leave the ship? Maybe sickbay’s got some bad memories, but the ship is safety to him.’

‘He has to leave that safety sometime.’

‘You didn’t see him on Zozma, Bones. He managed really well, most of the time. It was hard to believe the disability bothered him. But when we crossed that river, we had to hold him up and tell him where to put his feet for every step... He just seems so vulnerable without sight.’

‘Jim, you can’t protect him forever, either. He has to start taking care of himself, and he can’t do that if you won’t let him. I’m not sure if maybe you’re more scared of it than he is.’

‘I do worry about him being able to cope,’ Kirk admitted.

‘Then you need to let him. I want to get him strong and independent as soon as possible, Jim. Can you imagine what it’s like for him, always having to ask help from other people? It’s killing his self esteem. There’s people touching him all the time. Every time a nurse gives him a sponge bath, or helps him out of bed, or guides him at all, he’s exposed to all their emotions. It’s a strain on him blocking all the time, and if there’s an ounce of pity or impatience in their minds, he feels it.’

‘Okay,’ Kirk conceded. ‘Maybe a holiday would be best for him. But Bones, we’re nowhere near a holiday planet – unless you think he’d like to stay on Vulcan?’

‘With his parents? By the way I heard Sarek and Amanda arguing over him, I think that’d be more stressful than here. We’re orbiting a perfect holiday planet, Jim. Zozma’s a quiet, peaceful planet – the summer season’s just ending where the science station is. The gravity’s slightly less than earth, which means he’ll be able to get around more easily. I’ve already called your friend Suran – he says there’s empty beds there just begging to be used. Spock can have plenty of rest, there are Vulcans there for him to talk to, and they’re researching what Spock would call a ‘fascinating’ planet – he needs something to stimulate his mind.’

‘It does sound perfect...’

‘You’ve got a few weeks of leave time, too,’ the doctor hinted.

‘Now hang on.’ Kirk shook his head. ‘I’m the captain. I can’t take time off.’

‘You’re Spock’s closest friend, and he needs a friend to be with him. Scotty’s perfectly capable of handling the ship for a few days. All he has to do is take Sarek to Vulcan, drop him off, and come back again.’

‘You’re right there. Maybe it’s not such a lame-brain idea as I thought it was. But there’s just one flaw in your plan. You know how devoted to duty Spock is. Even while he’s not working he’ll find an excuse to stay on the ship. How do we get him of all people to take leave?’

‘Do we have to tell him?’

‘You mean pack for him, and everything, then take him off and break the good news to him?’

‘Why not? Once he’s there he can’t do much about it.’

‘He’ll love that,’ Kirk muttered sarcastically. ‘Gimme some time to stew on it, Bones,’ he decided. ‘I’ll give you a decision later.’

‘As long as you make the right one.’

‘Meet me in my quarters once my shift’s over. I’ll let you know then.’

McCoy smiled broadly, and went back to the sickbay feeling very satisfied. He knew the captain would have refused to take leave after the stress of the last few weeks, but since Spock needed it too...

 

Spock stepped in through the door to his rooms, expecting the usual familiar scent of home. But he stopped abruptly in the doorway, breathing in slowly through his nose as the feel and scent of the place hit him.

‘It smells different,’ he said, frowning slightly. ‘And it’s cold. The air-conditioning must have been turned off. I – suppose it would have been while I was in sickbay. It is logical.’

‘But it’s not as if you’re dead!’ Amanda exclaimed. ‘This is still where you live.’

‘I have slept in sickbay for fifty-three nights. The room there is more familiar to me now than my quarters are, and it is not logical to waste energy on empty rooms. But it will be good to move back here. There is a distinct lack of privacy in sickbay.’

‘Do you need help?’ Amanda asked as he hesitated.

‘No – just a moment to remember the dimensions of my quarters.’

He walked forward slowly. He had always been able to navigate in his room in the dark, but this felt oddly different. He estimated the position of the dividing partition, then moved towards his bed until he felt the edge against his knee. From there it was easy enough to locate the cabinets at the head. He knelt and touched the middle door, trying to find the catch. After a moment he withdrew his hands, clenching them into fists by his sides.

‘I can’t open it,’ he said, trying to hide his frustration. ‘I must type in the code, and the pads are one with the surface.’

‘I can do it for you, Spock. What did you want?’

‘I should be able to open my own cupboards... I want my lyre.’

‘What’s the code?’

‘59743.’

Amanda took his hand and pressed his fingers to the corresponding numbers so the door slid open. ‘The pad can be made tactile. You shouldn’t feel ashamed because people design things without considering if everyone can use them. That’s their fault, not yours.’

‘I don’t want to be forced to depend on others’ help all my life,’ he said quietly. ‘That is one of the worst things.’

‘I know, Spock. But you won’t have to. I know it seems like that at the moment, but you’re intelligent enough to find ways around problems. You’ve always been quick to adapt.’

Amanda reached into the cupboard and took out the dark wooden lyre that seemed to have been with Spock forever.

‘You still have this same lyre,’ she said, stroking the wood fondly. ‘Are you going to play it here?’

‘I would prefer to go to a recreation room.’

‘I’ll carry it for you then, so you’ll have your hands free for your cane.’ Amanda studied his face, hesitated, then spoke again. ‘Spock, are you sure you don’t want to come back to Vulcan with us when we leave?’

‘I could not live with Sarek, mother, and I have my career here,’ Spock told her gently. ‘The _Enterprise_ is my home now. Mr Scott has made conversions, and I’ll be able to retrain when I’m stronger. I don’t think I would know what to do if I suddenly found myself off this ship now.’

She nodded, putting her arm around his shoulders to give him a quick hug. ‘I’m afraid I still see you as my little boy, Spock, and I’d like to look after you. But I know you can manage, and you have friends here who care about you. I am glad you’re not giving up.’

‘There is one thing you could do for me, mother?’

‘Yes, Spock?’

‘Would you read to me before you go? Scott has adapted a machine to print Braille, but it is extremely slow, so only a few of my books have been translated into Braille manuscripts. I listen to the computer, but it has no understanding of the words.’

‘Of course I’ll read to you, Spock,’ she smiled. ‘I’d love to. When you’re back in the sick back I’ll read as much as you want me to – and you could record the readings if you’d like.’

‘Thank you, mother,’ Spock nodded solemnly. He moved towards the door, but his mother reached out a hand to his shoulder, stopping him. He felt one of her hands stroke his hair, then come back to rest on his shoulder. That movement had always provoked annoyance when he had been a young boy, struggling to prove his divorce from emotion, but now he gathered a strange comfort.

‘Spock, I know what you’re feeling,’ she told him quietly. ‘I do know.’

Spock could feel her understanding him without him having to say a word. ‘I know you do, mother,’ he answered, just as quietly. ‘You did not have to tell me that. I felt it in sickbay, when you held me.’

‘Could there be anyone – any Healer on Vulcan – ’

‘Nothing can be done,’ he broke in quickly.

‘I just wish you could come home...’

‘I would rather be able to touch than communicate through the detachment of a comm system, but I shall visit, as soon as I can. The rest and the heat would be beneficial – but I do not want to leave the ship right now.’

‘Just as long as you know that your father and I both care. Maybe your father seems not to, but he will come round, Spock.’

‘Would you show me the door, mother?’ Spock asked, finding her arm again.

Amanda hesitated, then sighed. Spock and Sarek would have to resolve their differences in their own time, their own way. She gave Spock a smile that he couldn’t see, and guided him to the door.

‘At least you have your dear Captain to talk to,’ she reassured herself.

‘Yes, he cares very much, although he mixes over-protectiveness with a kind of denial of my situation. Sometimes I think my blindness has more taken over his life than mine. He arranges his schedules around my needs.’

‘It must be hard for him too.’

‘In time things will settle to normal. I have been learning how to take care of myself, and had some small amount of instruction via subspace from a rehabilitation facility, but there is a limit to how much one can learn from bed, and without contact with the instructor. I’ll begin a rehabilitation programme in a licensed school when I’m ready. At least I can read now. I did feel trapped when I could not even read.’

‘I’m glad you can read Braille. I’ve never understood how anyone can tell those tiny dots apart.’

‘I admit it is strange after using my eyes for so long. The Vulcan touch symbols are vastly more efficient and compact, but Braille is Starfleet standard.’

‘Us humans don’t have the mind to cope with remembering every different shape of the Vulcan touch language, or the sensitive fingers to feel them,’ his mother reminded him.

‘No – and Braille is sufficient, if slow. But it is still bulky, and difficult to print without the proper equipment. Mr Scott is putting together a touch board which simply translates the writing straight off a computer or book and raises pins in the right combinations. I am anticipating using the device. It will be a help to me.’

‘Spock – ’ Amanda hesitated, then asked gently, ‘Spock, do you see in your dreams?’

The Vulcan nodded stiffly. He wasn’t entirely comfortable discussing dreams. ‘I see in my dreams.’ His face took on a haunted look, and he drew an unsteady breath. ‘I see in my nightmares, too. I sometimes wish I couldn’t.’

‘You must have been very brave the last two months, Spock,’ she praised him gently.

Spock shook his head. ‘No. I have not been brave. I would say tolerant. I have learned patience in a way that I hope no one else will ever be taught.’

 

Uhura lounged back in recreation room 5, tilting her chair so it balanced back against the wall.

‘Check. Your move, Pavel.’

It was a game of chess that wasn’t going anywhere. Each time she moved, she artfully put Chekov’s king in check, then he moved it away, then she put it in check again. She had been chasing his king around the board for an hour.

‘I quit.’ Chekov brushed his hand over the board, sending pawns, knights and other pieces toppling over onto the table top.

‘Now that’s not very sporting,’ Uhura teased him.

‘Vhy do ve not play something interesting?’ Chekov slapped the table impatiently, slipping into a thick Russian accent. Uhura never knew if it were accidental, or put on to annoy her on purpose.

‘Three dimensional chess is interesting – if you play it with someone who knows how.’

‘Ve do not all have personal instruction from Mr Spock. I should show you Russian poker,’ he said enthusiastically. ‘Now, there’s a game.’

‘I’ve never heard of that, Pavel.’ She looked up as the door opened, and hastily set her chair back on four legs. ‘Speak of the devil,’ she murmured cheerfully, then raised her voice, ‘Mr Spock! I didn’t know you were allowed out of sickbay, sir.’

‘Lieutenant Uhura,’ Spock nodded. He let go of his mother’s arm, and altered his direction towards the voice. His cane hit something, and he stopped, feeling the table with his palm. ‘I believe you met my mother last time she was on the ship.’

‘Yes, I did.’ She stood up and offered her hand to the pretty, grey haired woman. ‘It’s nice to see you again.’

‘And is it my mother who is the devil, or I?’ Spock asked, having obviously overheard the remark.

‘Oh, you, sir,’ Uhura insisted, then shot a helpless look at him. ‘I meant – well, er – ’

Spock let her flounder speechlessly for a few moments, then said, ‘I know what you meant, Lieutenant. If only you would learn now to say what you mean.’

‘How are you now, Mr Spock?’

‘I am well, thank you.’

‘He is tired,’ Amanda said firmly, looking meaningfully at her son. ‘He really should be lying down.’

‘I assure you that if I need to lie down, I shall,’ Spock said tolerantly.

‘What about – ’ Uhura began.

‘I am getting used to it,’ Spock said, deducing her meaning. ‘Trying to adapt outside of sickbay.’

Uhura glanced at Chekov, mouthing, say something. Then the navigator realised that Spock probably didn’t know he was in the room, and he nodded.

‘Hello, Mr Spock.’ He suddenly realised his voice was nervous. He had seen the Vulcan once on the bridge, but mostly when he was in bed, with his blindness not so obvious. Now he had no idea how to act. ‘It’s Chekov, sir.’

‘Ah, Mr Chekov. Yes. I do know your voice.’ Chekov’s awkward nervousness put Spock on edge, but he kept it concealed. It would be impolite to inflict his personal problems on those around him. ‘I heard Miss Uhura talking to you – she was playing chess with you?’

‘Yes, sir. How – ?’

Spock bent and picked up a small object from the floor by his foot, feeling it as he straightened up. ‘I believe this is a white knight. I trust there are no more on the floor? It is potentially dangerous. You wouldn’t wish me to break my leg?’

‘Oh no, sir. There’s no more pieces down there. One must have – rolled off.’ Chekov knelt hurriedly, trying to silently recover the small chessmen that had scattered over the floor.

‘I hear you picking them up,’ Spock reprimanded him. ‘Miss Uhura, would you help him, then maybe I could find a chair without the fear of tripping over people in addition to chess pieces?’

‘Of course, sir.’ She crouched down and began to gather up the pieces. As she dropped a handful, rattling, onto the table-top, she noticed the beautiful wooden lyre. ‘Are you going to play for us, Mr Spock?’

‘Are you going to sing?’

‘Don’t I always, sir?’ she asked, getting to her feet again. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t think to bring the lyre to you in sickbay.’

‘There’s no need for apology, Lieutenant – I would have asked for it had I wanted it, but my hands have been too burned to play until recently,’ Spock told her. ‘The taped music you brought me was of far more comfort than an instrument I could not have played.’

‘I’m glad, sir.’

Uhura returned the last chess pieces to the table, and sat down again, automatically tilting her chair back against the wall. She realised that Spock couldn’t see it anyway, and left it that way. Then she became aware of the Vulcan’s attention – as unnerving as his piercing gaze had been.

‘Lieutenant, is your chair base firmly on the floor?’ he asked her suspiciously.

She let the chair thump back in her surprise. ‘Mr Spock, how did you – ’

‘Not by any great stroke of magic on my part, Lieutenant,’ he said, sounding half amused. ‘It was a simple process of deduction. Your chair often is like that when you are relaxing. You need not worry about taking advantage of my position. I am truly blind – I can see none of your movements.’

‘Mr Spock, I never meant to do that,’ she said, her tone a mixture of shame and protest. ‘I would never – ’

‘Miss Uhura, I did not mean that as a reprimand. It was merely a statement of fact. I know you would never deliberately try to hurt me, or mislead me,’ he said more gently. ‘But it is natural that you may do something that I disapprove of while I cannot see it, just as you may say something I would disapprove of if I were not within hearing range. But I came here to play my lyre.’

He found a chair and sat down, holding out his arms for the lyre. He stroked the hard, polished wood, following the curves, then ran his fingers over the strings, sending a faint burst of music into the air. He was suddenly gripped by an illogical, sick feeling that maybe he wouldn’t be able to play the instrument, and he held back nervously, flexing fingers that felt thick and clumsy after the weeks of healing.

‘Spock, you can do it,’ Amanda reassured him, seeing his hesitancy.

‘I know.’

He tuned the instrument carefully, listening to the strings, then touched each one sensitively, letting it release a clear note into the air.

‘Uhura, have I tuned it correctly?’ he asked finally, needing that last reassurance. ‘I missed no strings?’

‘Not one, Mr Spock,’ she promised.

Spock let his hands hover over the strings, then touched them to play a few scales. ‘I can still play. Can you still sing, Lieutenant?’

The communications officer thought she saw a wicked glint in Spock’s eyes as he asked the question, and Pavel smiled expectantly. It was always fun when these two got together. He was beginning to forget about being awkward now. The Russian patted the chair beside him and Amanda sat down quietly.

‘What would you sing?’ Spock asked. ‘Shall I follow your lead?’

‘If you know the tune, Mr Spock.’

‘Spock could always pick up tunes on that thing,’ Amanda remembered, looking at her son fondly. ‘There’s a musical streak in this family – mostly on his father’s side.’

‘You’ll have to tell me all about your little boy one day,’ Uhura said mischievously.

‘I am sure my mother could tell you many stories about me.’ Spock spoke levelly, but his face was saying, I dare you.

His mother smiled happily for the first time since hearing what had happened to her son. ‘Sarek wouldn’t approve,’ she mused, then she accepted the challenge.

‘There was a time that he came home with a young sand rat in his hand,’ she began. ‘He must have been about four or five. He’d been off exploring on his own, I think.’

‘I went into the desert, as I recall,’ Spock said quietly. ‘To study the rock formations.’

‘I forbade you to go right into the desert on your own!’ Amanda said with surprise. ‘And I thought – ’

‘Sarek considered it safe,’ Spock cut in. ‘It was over thirty years ago, mother. Much has changed since then.’

‘Yes. Yes, it has.’ She turned back to the others. ‘As I said, he’d found a sand rat. The shock of being caught, combined with being kept in his lunch container all day and carried home by its tail, had killed the poor creature. Spock demanded to know what was inside it; how it lived. His father dissected the animal, pointing out all the vital organs. As soon as Spock understood that shutting it in a box probably suffocated it he demanded that his father put it back together to make it well again. Naturally Sarek refused.

‘Later I found little Spock in tears in the garden, all stuck with glue and material. He’d tried to stick the rat back together again with glue and bandages. He’d even given it an electric shock to try and start its heart again. He was holding the poor thing in his hands, its fur all matted with glue and singed by burns, soaked by his tears.’

‘So what did you do?’ Uhura asked. Spock’s face wore a mask of non-emotion. He ignored his mother, lightly plucking at the strings of the instrument in his lap.

‘I picked him up, consoled him, and gave him a good hot bath. Sarek gave him a series of biology lessons.’

‘Any more stories?’

‘I could tell you about the time we had a heat wave, and Spock decided it was logical to take all his clothes off, in the middle of a buffet where most of the ambassadors of the Federation and their families were guests – but I’d better not. I think he may legally divorce me if I do that.’

‘We do all love your Vulcan son,’ Uhura said sincerely, trying to keep her warm smile down to a quiet curving of the lips. ‘We’re all waiting for him to come back to the bridge. Aren’t we, Pavel?’

‘Oh – yes!’ Chekov agreed rather too wholeheartedly. ‘Ve can’t vait.’

Uhura glanced sadly for a moment at Spock’s eyes, then caught Amanda’s doing the same. She reached out silently and squeezed the woman’s hand for a second, smiling in sympathy, then looked back to Spock.

‘He really is wonderful, you know. A one off.’

‘Are you quite ready now, Lieutenant?’ Spock asked with feigned coldness.

‘Quite ready, sir.’

Uhura began to sing one of the old star songs from a century ago, and for a few minutes the room reverberated with the sound of her voice and Spock’s alien music. His mother was pleased to see that he handled the lyre just as easily as he always had. She knew he would be upset if he had lost that. He played fluently, and she watched his face light up with something like joy. He became absorbed in the music, oblivious to those around him. Only his brown eyes held no expression. Uhura’s voice faded away at the end of the song, but Spock carried on playing, letting the tune metamorphose into his own improvisation, that seemed to speak more of his emotion than his voice ever could.

Then Spock seemed to become aware of the others in the room again, and he tapered the tune off, laying the instrument on the table in front of him to indicate that the performance was at an end.

He took a breath, listening to the stillness in the room, then asked, ‘Did I play to your satisfaction?’

Uhura jumped, as if she hadn’t realised the music had ended. There were tears running down her face. Chekov was staring pointedly away from the others, so his face couldn’t be seen, and then she saw that Amanda’s face was buried in her hands, her shoulders shaking.

‘Lieutenant?’ Spock asked.

‘You played as beautifully as you always do,’ she smiled. ‘Or maybe even better.’

‘Thank you very much – but I am sure it could not compare to your singing, Lieutenant. Now I suspect I should return to the sickbay, before McCoy comes here to get me.’ He picked up his cane, then went to the door. But he turned as he found the doorpost, a look of slight embarrassment on his face. ‘I shall need assistance.’

Chekov jumped to his feet, eager to help. ‘I can help you, sir. Do you vant me to carry the lyre?’

‘Leave the lyre with me, Spock,’ his mother said gently, not letting her emotion come through in her voice. ‘I’ll make sure it gets back to your quarters safely.’

‘Thank you, mother.’

Kirk came through the doorway as Chekov turned back to Spock.

‘It’s all right, Ensign – I can help Mr Spock,’ he said authoritatively. ‘All right, Spock?’

‘Of course, Captain.’

Kirk waved the ensign to sit back down, and took Spock’s arm to lead him down the corridor.

‘I’ve been looking for you, Spock.’

‘I did not realise you were in the room with us.’

‘I wasn’t – I’ve only just got down here.’ He turned as strains of Vulcan music began to drift out of the room they had just left. ‘Uhura?’

‘No. It sounds like my mother.’

‘I didn’t know she played!’

‘She learnt when I learnt,’ Spock said, remembering the first few weeks as Sarek patiently tried to teach both mother and son the elementary techniques for the complicated instrument. _Watching the vibration of the strings is vital_ , Sarek had told him firmly, every time his attention wandered. He couldn’t quite think of a perfectly logical reason for the great relief he felt on finding the vibration just as easy to feel.

‘I’m returning to sickbay now, Jim,’ he began, ‘if Dr McCoy is – ’

‘I heard you talking – but it’s not that. I just thought you might like to come up to the observation deck with me. I haven’t been up there in ages.’

‘Nor I, Captain. It – is a relaxing place to be,’ he said, masking his reluctance.

Kirk let Spock take his arm, noticing the taut expression as they went on down the corridor. The Vulcan was stressed. He was glad he had arranged just the holiday Spock would love.

‘How did it go with your parents?’ he asked after a moment of silence. He had been in the corridor when Ambassador Sarek strode past on his way to his quarters, looking unusually hurried for a Vulcan, his face like carved stone. He had ignored the captain’s greeting.

‘My mother was upset, as predicted,’ Spock said with careful non-emotion. ‘But I think she will finally realise that the situation is unalterable. And Sarek. I think when Sarek accepts my choice of career he may accept what has happened to me. I don’t know how he feels about my being blind. I am not privy to any emotional changes he may experience.’

‘He cares, Spock.’

‘He is Vulcan,’ Spock stated, without any inflection to suggest what that meant.

They stepped into a turbo-lift and it moved off, depositing them just outside the observation deck. Kirk took Spock into the dimly lit room and up to the large windows.

‘We’re right in front of the ports, Spock.’

Spock touched a hand to the window, wondering silently why Jim had taken him to something that was no more than a cold, flat barrier.

‘You used to come up here and watch the stars,’ Jim said quietly.

‘Yes.’ Did humans think that this kind of torture was somehow beneficial? Maybe they didn’t understand how wrenching this loss was to a Vulcan.

‘It was your favourite place.’

Spock stood still for a moment before he answered, absorbing the atmosphere. The stars hadn’t been the only reason he used to come here.

‘It is a place where one can think without interruption,’ he said.

He pressed his palms to the cold window in front of him, as if he were trying to absorb space through his fingertips. Kirk knew it may as well be a blank wall, except for Spock’s knowledge of the clarity of the glass, and the stars outside. He remembered with irony Spock’s criticism of the greasy, sight-obscuring marks people’s hands left behind here. Spock stood silent for a long while, until Kirk’s voice broke into his thoughts.

‘Why the sigh?’

Spock drew himself up straight with slow dignity. ‘I am sorry, Captain. My mind was elsewhere.’

‘A few galaxies away. What’s wrong?’

‘I was only hoping that I shall some day see the star patterns again. I know such hope is illogical, but – ’

Kirk laid his hand on Spock’s shoulder, and he could feel the strained tension with which Spock was holding himself upright. But he knew that if he wanted to sit down he would do so.

‘Hope’s never wrong. I’m sure you will see the stars,’ he said confidently.

‘You are sure because you want it to happen.’

‘I will find a planet with a cure for your blindness,’ Kirk vowed firmly.

‘Captain.’ Impatience crept into Spock’s tone. He took his palms from the window and locked his hands behind his back to try to disguise the tension. ‘Jim, I have been blind seven weeks, and yet you still do not understand. There will not be such a planet. There is no cure in existence. You must accept what has happened to me.’

‘I’ve never seen you give up before. You’ll beat it.’

‘It is not a question of beating it.’ Spock turned his face to Kirk’s trying to work out how to put it simply enough. ‘Jim, there is a covering – a blanket of cells so thick that it blocks out all light. It will not disappear. If it does begin to break down it may not be for months or years – it will also take months or years. To surgically remove the layer would destroy my eyes, because the cells merge with those in my eyes. Even if they could be removed, they would regrow, like a cancer. My body produced them. I cannot fight a part of myself, just as I cannot fight a rock.’

‘There is a chance you’ll see,’ Kirk pressed.

‘Captain, the five percent chance is only an estimation. Only twenty seven people have ever been blinded in this way – one has recovered and one is recovering, both after almost half a century of blindness. They were neither my sex nor my species. That is how much hope there is of me seeing again, and I _do_ want to see. I simply know I shall not. I’m not being pessimistic, Jim. I speak logically and realistically.’

Kirk could see him clenching and twisting his hands behind his back as he fought to keep his emotions under control.

‘I’m sorry, Spock,’ he said softly. ‘I didn’t want to upset you.’

His hands stopped moving abruptly. ‘You did not upset me.’

‘You know I did.’ Kirk looked out of the window. ‘It is a beautiful view. I can see why you like it so much up here.’

‘Would you describe it, Jim?’ Spock asked, grateful for the change of subject. ‘I’d like to hear your description.’

‘You know what it looks like.’

‘Memory is not comparable to what is there now. I – do miss seeing the spectacle of the universe.’

‘All right, Spock, if you don’t mind me romanticising.’

‘I am quite used to humans romanticising.’

‘Good.’ Kirk stepped closer to the glass, letting his eyes sweep over the view. ‘As far as you look there are millions – billions of stars. Some with names – most without – not human ones, anyway. The nearest ones are moving too fast to be seen clearly. They’re white streaks of light across the window.’

‘I thought I could feel the ship moving.’

‘Scotty had to leave the reconnaissance team on Regulus. We’re going to fetch them,’ Kirk explained briefly. ‘Behind the moving stars are the ones you can see, that seem still. All the constellations, so distorted you can hardly recognise them, galaxies so far away they look like single stars.’ He picked up the pair of binoculars that always sat near the window, altering the dials to pick up a broader spectrum of light. ‘I can see the Cartwheel Galaxy far in the distance with its brilliant blue rim of young stars, and glowing centre. There are spiral galaxies, starburst galaxies, beautiful nebulae like coloured mist, reaching fingers and jets and clouds into space. There’s a beautiful star system we’re just passing – two sets of red binaries and one of blue, circling each other in a dance.’ An instinct made him lower the binoculars to look at Spock’s face, and he saw how drawn and white it was. ‘Spock, I’m hurting you,’ he said softly.

‘No, you are not, Jim,’ Spock replied quietly. ‘I was simply picturing what you describe. Sometimes I see so much science in the stars that I forget about their simple beauty. It only seemed odd that I should find that through your eyes after my own have been rendered useless.’

‘I think maybe seeing is more in the mind than in the eyes,’ Jim told him. ‘You’ve often pointed things out to me that I never would have noticed, even when they’ve been staring me in the face.’

‘Eyes are first needed to convey the message to the brain, before any descriptions or interpretations can ensue.’

‘I am hurting you.’

‘No, not by your descriptions, Jim. I shall always welcome them.’

A quiet settled over the room, and Spock let the peaceful feeling sink into every part of his body, picking up on Jim’s odd and random emotions as he looked out at the stars. Slowly he stared into his own blackness, letting his imagination take over, until his mind let him see the kind of view that his captain was staring at.

There was an almost silent footfall outside the door, but Spock was distracted by it, and the stars disappeared from his view.

‘Jim, who is that outside?’ he asked.

Kirk looked around as the door to the room opened and Sarek stepped through. The Vulcan was rather surprised that his son seemed to be looking through an observation window, but he said nothing about it. It must be some kind of odd human-inspired idea, and he wasn’t going to begin lecturing him about that right now.

‘Spock,’ Sarek said quietly. ‘Captain Kirk.’

Spock displayed no surprise at the voice. He didn’t turn from the window. Kirk felt the thick tension between them immediately.

‘Sarek,’ Spock said blankly. ‘I thought you had returned to your quarters, for meditation.’

‘I have completed my meditation. I came to speak with you. I was cruel to you earlier, Spock. I am not proud of that.’

Spock turned around with controlled surprise at his father’s admission, and Sarek stepped a little further into the room. Kirk cleared his throat in the awkward silence, then said;

‘I’ll go if you like. I’m sure you want to be alone.’

‘That would be an accurate assumption, Captain Kirk,’ Sarek nodded.

‘Jim was describing the view,’ Spock said, slightly defiantly to Sarek’s mind.

‘I understand,’ Sarek told him.

As soon as they were alone in the room, Sarek turned to regard his son, trying not to react emotionally to the shocking blankness of the eyes, and assessing his condition instead. The extreme pallor and unsteadiness indicated his weakness, and faint burn scars were just discernible, but there didn’t seem to be any other noticeable injury. Then abruptly he noticed that Spock was clinging to the slight ledge of the windowsill behind him, and realised he was about to faint.

‘Spock, there is a seat opposite,’ he said.

‘I do not need to sit.’

‘You are not well.’

Sarek strode forward to catch hold of his son’s arm as Spock’s knees weakened, and he helped him to the long couch. Sadness caught like a dagger in his throat as he watched Spock feeling for the seat behind him, and for once he refused to let his disciplines push that sadness away. Today he needed the empathic understanding that tied a Vulcan family together.

‘You should not be out of sickbay,’ he told Spock firmly.

Spock shook his head, although Sarek could see he was letting every bone sink into the support of the chair. ‘I am used to fatigue. I shall be fine when I have rested.’

‘Your mother has always been concerned that something of this nature would happen to you in Starfleet.’

The lines of Spock’s face tensed. ‘It is not the fault of Starfleet,’ he said firmly. ‘I could just as easily be injured working on a planet or a spacestation – or the Vulcan Science Academy.’

‘I am not trying to provoke an argument. There were many things that I said in the sickbay to mask my shock and devastation. They were illogical, and wrong.’

Spock stayed silent, still not quite sure what to say at Sarek admitting a failing, not once, but twice.

‘The blindness is total?’ Sarek asked abruptly, although he knew the answer.

‘The cells are opaque – they block out all light,’ Spock said with practised acceptance.

‘And it was sudden?’

‘Instantaneous. I – lifted the inspection hatch, there was a brief burst of colour, then darkness. It is permanent, father. There is nothing that can be done.’

‘I accept that, Spock.’ Sarek sat down on the chair opposite to face his son. ‘Spock – ’ The words stuck in his throat, and he found himself having to look away from his son’s eyes. ‘Spock, you know that a Vulcan grieves differently from a human – and the news did grieve me. I had to meditate – to clear my mind. Now I am ready to accept the fact that you are blind.’

‘Sarek, are you ready to accept the implications?’ Spock asked him seriously. ‘I am still the first officer of this ship, but I have not yet begun to retrain. If I cannot manage I shall be forced to return to Vulcan – at least until I find another post. I know my mother will want me to return home. I cannot take care of myself alone yet, Sarek. I would be a burden on your life until I can.’

‘Spock, you are my son. You would be no burden. I care as much as your mother does – simply in a different manner.’

‘I was aware of that, father. Thank you.’

‘Then why did you not tell us of the accident when it happened?’

‘I thought I should learn to cope with it before I inflicted my misfortune on you and my mother.’

‘Spock,’ Sarek prompted him gently. ‘I do not think that is the entire truth.’

Spock took in a slow breath. ‘I have never lived up to your expectations of me, Sarek. I have human blood, I rejected you to join Starfleet. Now I am blinded, and I am not coping well.’

‘Spock, I married a human from choice, and accepted all the consequences of that action, and we have greater concerns now than your choice of career. As for your blindness – I would always wish to know if you were so badly injured, whether that injury affected your body or your mind. Of course you must come to our home if you cannot stay here.’

‘I have told my mother I shall visit, when the ship is next at Vulcan.’

‘I would welcome that visit. I apologised to your mother for leaving her when she was so upset. I sometimes neglect her human needs. I should not have left you, either.’

‘May I ask what made you decide to speak to me? The – pardon the expression – change of heart.’

‘Someone came to me and pointed out my – errors,’ Sarek said cryptically, recalling Christine Chapel storming into his rooms and disturbing his meditation. She had faced him angrily, if slightly nervously, and proceeded to tell the famous, awe-inspiring ambassador just what she thought of his attitude.

‘The suggestions were logical,’ he admitted. ‘Spock, the distress in your mind will get better. You will adapt. But I am concerned for you. I know how sight loss affects our people. I do not think the humans realise the magnitude of that loss.’

‘There is additional trauma from my clear memories of the explosion, the young man that was killed. I feel that if I could only find a way to cope with the blindness, those memories would not disturb me so much. But I can find no way to cope...’ He trailed off, realising he had almost launched into the kind of emotionalism his father would be shocked at.

Sarek stared at Spock’s white, rigidly controlled face, wondering how he could have raised his son to be so afraid of asking for help. He crossed to sit on the long couch beside him, and touched his hand lightly.

‘Spock, I am here,’ he said simply.

He put Spock’s hands together, and clasped them between his, establishing a mental bond without having to ask for permission. They sat in silence for a long time, as Sarek read in Spock’s mind his feelings and memories of the last two months, and tried to reassure the fears that kept flooding over the thoughts. He tried not to react with shock each time a dark wish to die permeated the link, but he was silently surprised that his son had survived for so long.

‘Sometimes I see, when I am in the transporter,’ Spock said, as Sarek relaxed his grip on his son’s hands. He still sounded as if he was in trance from the meld.

Sarek nodded, remembering the image he had seen in Spock’s mind, of Scott working the transporter controls – a transporter without the new trim he had seen on beaming in a few hours before. It would be logical to tell Spock that the sight was a hallucination from the transporter effect, but for some reason he said nothing.

‘You should have been taken to a Healer two months ago,’ he said instead. ‘If McCoy had thought, he would have realised you needed treatment.’

‘He doesn’t know our customs,’ Spock excused him. ‘I should have told him, but the ship’s schedule was – ’

‘At times your devotion to this ship is a threat to your life,’ Sarek said grimly. ‘Spock, I cannot give you the permanent help that a Healer could, but I can try a deep meld. I can help ease some of the mind-pain. It may also help me to – understand.’

‘I would be extremely grateful,’ Spock said. He tried not to let the tremble come through into his voice as he thought of what it would be like to finally have another person really understand how he felt in his mind, and maybe take some of the pain away.

‘And you must visit a Healer as soon as you can come to Vulcan, Spock. I shall arrange an appointment as soon as you let us know you are coming.’

‘Of course.’

‘Do you wish to return to the sickbay?’ Sarek asked him. ‘You are tired, and we may continue our discussion there.’

‘Rest would be logical. I am tired,’ Spock nodded. ‘I would be grateful if you would guide me, father.’

He got to his feet slowly, trying to conceal the effort it took to stand. Sarek moved quickly to steady him as he reeled.

‘Spock, sit down. I shall call for a wheelchair to take you back.’

‘I simply felt dizzy. It will pass.’

‘If you are certain. But you’re weaker than you lead them to believe. I gather that you have had an eventful two days. Now you must rest, before you weaken yourself further. It would be unwise and illogical for you to worsen your condition by staying away from the sickbay any longer.’

Spock was surprised to feel his father’s arm come to lie warmly across his shoulders, but he let it stay, and Sarek steered him carefully out of the room.

 


	16. Chapter 16

Kirk looked up from his book and swung around in his chair expectantly as McCoy came into his rooms, carrying a tray with two glasses.

‘What’re you reading?’ the doctor asked casually.

‘Just a book,’ Kirk answered with equal laziness, putting it down carefully.

McCoy set the tray on Kirk’s desk and picked up the leather bound novel. ‘Antique?’

‘Twenty-first century. Made in the quality revivals of the 2040s.’

‘Now that’s what I call a real book. Not words on a computer screen.’ He bent his face to the pages, flicking through them. ‘This _smells_ like a book.’

Kirk nodded at the small tray. ‘What’s this?’ he asked.

‘A nightcap,’ McCoy smiled. ‘Or a celebratory drink, if you prefer.’

‘What are we celebrating?’

‘Spock and you taking leave of course.’ McCoy’s face fell. ‘You – did agree, didn’t you?’

‘Oh, that,’ Kirk said lightly. ‘Yes. A fun packed week on a beautiful planet. Eight days on a science research station for the three of us.’

‘Three?’ McCoy asked. ‘Who else – Now wait a damn minute, Jim! You’re not proposing I come with you?’

‘That’s exactly what I’m proposing.’

‘Jim, I don’t have that much leave time built up. I blew it all last Christmas on that break back home in Georgia. Starfleet would never let me – ’

‘Starfleet suggested it.’

‘I set up this so you and Spock could get some rest. I don’t need it.’

‘Ahh,’ Kirk said slowly, then laughed. ‘You set a trap and you walked straight into it, Bones. Spock’s been ill two months. He’s still too weak to look after himself, and he’s just been blinded. Starfleet won’t let him take leave on an uninhabited planet without a doctor.’

‘I thought this Suran was a doctor?’

‘Not the doctor on Spock’s case.’

‘I wish I’d never suggested the damn thing now.’

Kirk began to look serious. ‘Maybe I should reconsider. I heard something about him fainting?’

‘He collapsed on the way back from the observation deck,’ McCoy nodded. ‘Sarek came into sickbay carrying him in his arms. He’s got a slight fever, he’s exhausted, but he was well enough to protest about being seen like that in front of the crew. I’ll let him stay awake to have some time with his parents, but then I’ll make him sleep through to morning, and let his Vulcan healing do its stuff. I still think a holiday’ll do him good. If he’s too tired to walk tomorrow, we can beam him into the place’s bedroom, and take a wheelchair – or take a wheelchair anyway. At least taking care of Spock might pass the time.’

‘Not that much time – Christine Chapel’s coming to assist you, and Uhura says she’d like a week in an isolated science station, with only one, rarely used communications centre. Oh – and Mr Sulu’s joining us. He expressed an interest in the plant-life there.’

‘God, we’re taking the whole crew with us! You’re going to regret this, Jim, once I start moaning.’

‘Is that a threat, Doctor?’ Kirk laughed.

‘It’s a promise,’ McCoy vowed. ‘But drink up, before the ice melts.’

Kirk eyed his glass. ‘Bones, there isn’t any ice in it. And should a surgeon really be drinking?’

‘It numbs the brain, Jim. Hopefully if I have enough I’ll forget the impending doom.’

‘It’s only eight days, Bones. Surely it can’t be that bad? Think of the long walks in the woods, long evenings enjoying ourselves and relaxing – ’

‘The long days spent in a Vulcan science station, surrounded by Vulcan scientists. My God, Jim. It’ll be like living with ten or more Spock’s! How will we ever be able to stand it?’

‘I intend to have fun, and so will you.’

‘If you think you can have any fun surrounded by green blooded Vulcans, you must be getting old.’ McCoy downed the last drops of the drink, and gathered up the glasses on the tray. ‘I have packing to do. When are we leaving, Jim?’

‘Tomorrow morning. 0700 hours. We’ll send the luggage off before that, so Spock doesn’t get suspicious.’

‘Seven in the morning?’ McCoy repeated hollowly. ‘Correct my last statement, Jim. I have to pack, then I have to get a very early night. How am I supposed to get Spock up that early?’

‘Will he be all right?’

‘If I make sure he sleeps now through to morning, and rests later after we beam down. But you know I’m only coming because of medical ethics.’

He turned to the door, the tray balanced on his palm.

‘You’ll love it when you get there,’ Kirk said softly to the blue shirted back. McCoy said nothing, and stalked out of the door in pretence anger. Kirk laughed, and picked up the book again.

 

The captain was jerked out of a satisfying sleep by a loud, persistent buzzing. He turned over in bed, clamping his pillow down over his head, but the buzzer still found his ears.

‘Who in God’s name – ’ he muttered, trying to remember what he’d been dreaming about. He rolled over again and promptly fell out of bed. He cursed as his hip hit the floor, then sat up, rubbing the bruised bone. He staggered to the door, less than pleased, yawning widely.

‘Come in,’ he muttered sleepily. He looked up into a cheerfully grinning face.

‘Can I? Or will you decommission me for waking you up like this?’ the face laughed, eyeing Kirk’s disgruntled expression.

‘Bones!’ the captain realised. ‘Doc, no one’s got the right to be that cheerful at this time in the morning. What time is it?’

‘Six-thirty. I thought you might crawl out of bed for a little early morning breakfast?’

‘Sure,’ Kirk shrugged vaguely. ‘Why don’t you come in properly?’

McCoy pushed past Kirk into his rooms, leading Spock behind him. Kirk rubbed his eyes again, and saw his friend, feeling an odd mixture of gladness that Spock and McCoy were getting on, and sadness that the Vulcan couldn’t appear at the doorway alone. He told himself not to be ridiculous – of course he would, when he was back in his quarters, well enough to not always need a person supporting him when he walked.

‘The captain does not look his best,’ McCoy explained to Spock. ‘I’m not sure if he’s really awake.’

Kirk realised he had opened the door automatically, still wearing only a rumpled T-shirt and briefs. He hastily fumbled with a drawer and pulled on a pair of regulation black trousers.

‘On the contrary, Doctor,’ Spock argued. ‘When I heard him cursing a few moments earlier, he sounded very much awake.’

‘Oh. I fell out of bed,’ Kirk explained briefly.

‘Yes, I gathered that, from the loud bang I heard.’

‘The floor hit me,’ the captain continued, with resentment towards the offending surface. ‘And it did it on purpose.’

‘I very much doubt that it was the floor which attacked you,’ Spock said dubiously. ‘Inanimate objects do not possess the capability for malicious aforethought, or – ’

‘You weren’t there,’ Kirk interrupted with a grin. ‘It hit me, when it plainly knew I wasn’t awake enough to defend myself.’

‘In that case, it was extremely inconsiderate of the floor to assault you at this early hour of the morning,’ Spock decided, the corners of his eyes creasing into a subtle smile. His swinging cane found a chair and he rested his hands on the back lightly, wondering where, exactly, he was standing.

‘Now he’s getting dressed. Brushing his hair.’ McCoy kept up the commentary.

‘I can hear perfectly well, Doctor,’ Spock said lightly. He, along with McCoy, was fully dressed, with neatly brushed hair and a clean face, and sickeningly awake, the captain thought jealously. But the Vulcan did look pale, and a little shaky.

‘You look tired, Spock,’ he mentioned.

‘I’ve not woken at this hour for some considerable time, sir, and the past few days have been strenuous. But I am growing stronger, else the doctor would not have allowed me up so early.’

‘Did you say six-thirty?’ Kirk asked.

‘You’re a little behind with the conversation, Jim,’ McCoy pointed out. ‘But, yes. That’s what I said. You’ve only got yourself to blame for organising this – ’

‘Bones,’ Kirk interrupted, nodding at Spock.

‘This early morning excursion,’ McCoy continued innocently.

‘When we beam down it’ll be near dinner time at the science station. That’s the trouble with having different times on different planets.’

‘It is not the time system, Captain,’ Spock pointed out. ‘It is the planet’s rotation and the position of the science station in conjunction with the sun which makes evening there coincide with morning here on the _Enterprise_. I could explain the precise logistics – ’

‘No, Spock,’ Kirk grinned. ‘It’s too early for science to sink in. Well, I’m dressed. Shall we go have breakfast?’

McCoy eyed the two small suitcases on the floor. ‘We’d better. Security’ll be in soon to – to get rid of this rubbish,’ he finished quickly.

Kirk nodded, and began towards his door.

‘Not that way, Jim,’ McCoy said quickly, and guided Spock towards the bathroom.

‘Where are you taking me?’ Spock asked, sure this wasn’t the door to the corridor.

‘To breakfast.’ The doctor steered Spock through the small bathroom to the door on the other side, which led to Spock’s quarters. As they stepped through, Kirk saw breakfast laid out on Spock’s table. Not the usual machine processed food, but an actual cooked breakfast. McCoy’s heart stopped as he saw Spock’s suitcases right in their path. He had packed them last night, and security had promised faithfully to move them by the morning.

‘Jim,’ he mouthed. ‘Do something!’

Spock was more sure of his way now, and had let go of the doctor’s arm, walking toward the scent of food. Kirk quickly leapt in front of him and whisked the cases away. Spock missed them by an inch. Kirk straightened up to see McCoy silently cursing.

‘Doctor?’ Spock turned around, slightly bewildered at the movement around him. ‘Is something wrong?’

‘No, Spock. Nothing. Why do you ask?’

‘You seem a little – agitated. Something is going on.’

‘No, nothing. Just the early rising getting to me.’ He grinned as Kirk picked up the cases and deposited them outside Spock’s door.

‘My ears seem to tell me otherwise,’ Spock said dubiously. ‘But I think I would rather not know what is going on.’

‘Nothing’s going on,’ McCoy told him firmly. ‘Here. Sit down. We cooked your favourite.’

‘We?’ Spock asked in disbelief.

‘Christine and me – or maybe more Christine. Actually, she did it all. I – er – supervised.’

‘I thought as much. And she is not included in the consumption of the meal she prepared?’

‘Yes, isn’t she?’ Kirk chimed in, and McCoy pulled an angry face at him.

‘She’s got – things to do. Lots of them. Jim, come outside a moment.’ Kirk followed him into the passageway. ‘Christine beamed down earlier, Jim.’

‘Earlier? Is there any earlier than this?’

McCoy shrugged. ‘Well, they’re beaming the luggage down, so when she’d finished the meal, she decided to go down and tidy the dormitory. It’s clean, but she says it could do with a little ‘homeyfying’, as she put it.’

‘I see. Bones, are you sure we shouldn’t just tell him? We’re digging a deeper and deeper pit here.’

‘Tell him? We’d never get him down there, Jim, and he needs this rest.’

‘While we all have nervous breakdowns keeping it a secret?’ he asked glumly. ‘I suppose so.’

They went back into the room, to find Spock seated at the table, touching the plates carefully to know where everything was. McCoy sat down opposite, and lifted the lid off a dish.

‘Bacon,’ Kirk sighed, breathing in the scent with relish.

‘Don’t worry, Spock,’ McCoy said, seeing the Vulcan start back from the smell. ‘It’s all vegetarian for you. A good, wholesome, Vulcan breakfast.’

‘Thank you, Doctor. That is very considerate of you.’

‘Not me. I told you Christine cooked it all.’

‘Of course. She is a commendable cook,’ Spock said.

McCoy grinned. ‘Do I detect a hint of admiration, or perhaps affection, in your voice, Spock?’

‘Doctor, please don’t try to read emotion into perfectly logical statements. I merely mentioned the Miss Chapel could cook well – nothing more than that.’

‘Of course. Well, Spock. It’s Vulcan quiva toast and lightly steamed li-vu-tak for you.’

McCoy filled Spock’s plate with hot food – thin slices of brittle, almost black bread, and a helping of crisp mixed vegetables. He gave Kirk a sideways look that said, I wouldn’t eat that stuff if you paid me.

‘Well, tuck in,’ he urged the Vulcan. ‘We’ve only got quarter of an hour and it’s rude to be late.’

‘Is it not a little foolish, Doctor,’ Spock began, ‘to be eating breakfast just before beaming down for dinner?’

McCoy faltered. Scotty had to leave orbit now to be back in time to pick them up before  _Enterprise_ ’s next assignment. He smiled gratefully as Kirk spoke.

‘We’ve been invited to wander around a little first, Spock. Dinner isn’t as early as that. I’m sorry. I didn’t tell you.’

‘No need to apologise, Jim. I’m sure you will enjoy yourself. The planet is a beautiful one.’

‘Won’t you come?’

‘I think I would rather wait in the building. My last excursion in the forest was rather – distressing. Added to that, I hardly have the strength.’

‘And I’m not going off on some hike, Jim, even if you want to,’ McCoy said firmly. ‘I’ll keep Spock company.’

Kirk shrugged. ‘If that’s what you want, Doc. I’ll leave you behind to the Vulcans.’

‘Blackmail won’t work either. I’m sure that with full-blooded Vulcans around, Spock’s conversation will be practically stimulating.’

‘I shall take that as a compliment, Doctor,’ Spock said uncertainly. ‘Come,’ he called, as there was a buzz at the door.

A few seconds later, the door to Spock’s quarters opened and a pretty, red-frocked officer, who looked barely seventeen, peeked in apologetically.

‘I’m sorry to interrupt, sir – Commander Spock,’ she said to the Vulcan nervously. ‘But the transporter room’s waiting, and Mr Scott’s anxious to – ’ She hesitated, then smiled. ‘ – to give it an overhaul.’ She brushed a wisp of pale hair from her face, and struggled inwardly for a moment, plucking up the courage to speak again. ‘Would you like me to clear the tray away, sir?’ she asked, nodding at the table. ‘I – I was assigned to be your new yeoman.’

‘Thank you,’ Spock said calmly, hoping some of his calm would influence her. ‘That would be helpful, Yeoman. But I don’t believe that I know your name?’

‘No, sir. I’m Yeoman Patricia Yolland. I’m new, sir. I just came on the ship at Alnair.’

‘Go ahead, then, Yeoman. Thank you.’

‘Miss Yolland,’ McCoy called sharply.

The girl straightened up with a jerk, almost dropping a cup in her anxiety. ‘Y-yes, sir?’

‘Relax,’ he smiled. ‘We don’t bite. We’re only human – most of us, anyway. Mr Spock may look like a devil, but he’s really a pussy-cat.’

Spock felt quickly for the cane by his chair, and stood up. ‘Gentlemen?’

Kirk offered his arm and walked him into the corridor. There was a wheelchair standing a little way down, just beside his door, and he realised Spock must have been persuaded to come from sickbay in it. He was relieved to see the suitcases were gone – to the transporter room, he hoped.

‘Ready for your ride, Spock?’ McCoy asked, wheeling the chair over to him.

‘Doctor, I am really not that tired,’ Spock protested as he sat down, and Kirk could see it was an argument they had already played out.

‘I know, but you will be,’ the doctor insisted. ‘So I don’t want you tiring yourself now.’

Spock shifted in the chair, giving a good impression of irritation. ‘Doctor, that would be a near impossibility while you are regulating my life.’

‘So what d’you think of that yeoman?’ McCoy asked Kirk as they began along the corridor. ‘They’re sending them straight out of diapers now,’ he grumbled quietly.

‘She’ll be okay,’ Kirk shrugged. ‘Once she realises all the officers aren’t gods. I’m sorry she’s nervous around you, Spock. I’m not sure she’s ever met a Vulcan before, let alone the son of the Vulcan ambassador.’

‘Then she should be reassigned – I don’t need a yeoman, Captain,’ Spock told him. ‘I never have. Who assigned one to me?’

‘I did, Spock,’ McCoy owned up.

‘Why? Vulcans do not require servants. I have always managed perfectly without one.’

‘When you could see,’ the doctor said softly. ‘Spock, you’ve had hardly any rehabilitation – hardly any mobility training yet. You’ll be moving back into your quarters soon. You do still need help sometimes, just with every day life, until you’re used to this.’

Spock shrugged very slightly. ‘Nurse Chapel has always helped me when I need it.’

‘You won’t have Christine in your quarters. You’ll have a drawer full of clothes that all feel the same, not just one sickbay overall. Meals to prepare – you’ll get pretty tired pretty soon of pre-prepared replicator meals. Two rooms to keep tidy without seeing them to know what’s untidy. I’m not saying you’re helpless – far from it – but you’ll find it very hard trying to manage totally on your own from the moment you move back to your rooms, especially with your strength so debilitated.’

‘Yolland will have had no experience – ’

‘She’ll learn,’ McCoy promised. ‘She’s been training as a nurse, and she’s continuing her studies on the ship to become fully qualified. Maybe I can let Christine be with you some time each day, when you most need her, but I can’t afford to lose my head nurse from sickbay all day.’

Spock nodded, and suddenly his hands were gripping tighter on the arms of the chair. He hadn’t thought of living on his own like that. For seven weeks someone had always been there – either Chapel, or someone saying,  _Christine sent me_ , or  _Christine thought you’d need some help, sir_ – always when he did need help. It had never been intrusive or unneeded. But of course he would have to learn to depend on himself. He loosened his fingers, and drew a deep breath.

‘Thank you, Doctor. Your decision was correct, and quite logical.’

‘You’ll get used to it,’ the captain told him. He looked at Spock’s face and saw a flicker of hesitation pass over it.

‘Something else wrong, Spock?’ he asked.

‘I was wondering – are you quite all right, Jim?’

‘I’m fine.’

‘Except in the head,’ McCoy muttered.

‘You seem – tense,’ Spock continued. ‘And so does the doctor. Maybe you shouldn’t come down to Zozma.’

‘Refuse an invitation from a Vulcan?’ Kirk asked incredulously. ‘You know how rude that’s considered by your people.’

‘Captain, that was only rude when Vulcans were liable to kill if offended. They would understand. Frankly, although I’m not arguing with the decision, I’m surprised the doctor even considered letting me out of sickbay again so soon.’

‘It gives you a chance to experience some new surroundings and talk science with a lot of Vulcans,’ McCoy explained. ‘Which may not be very good for your physical health, but should do wonders for your mental health, as long as you compensate for it with a little more rest.’

‘Even so, Doctor, if we are all out of sorts, as you would put it – ’

‘No, Spock,’ Kirk said definitely. ‘I’m fine, and so is Bones. We’re both fine. Perfectly well. Both of us.’

‘Captain, you are babbling.’

‘Well, that’s a captain’s prerogative sometimes – it confuses the enemy.’

‘Am I the enemy, sir?’ Spock asked, totally bemused.

‘Never mind, Spock.’

‘Very well, Captain,’ Spock nodded. McCoy stopped pushing the chair as a door swished. ‘Is this the transporter room now?’

‘That’s right.’

‘Then I shall walk from here.’ Spock stood and reached out for Kirk to take him through the door, as McCoy folded up the chair and carried it into the room.

‘Three steps up now,’ Kirk muttered as they crossed to the transporter. ‘That’s it.’ He got Spock quickly onto a round terminal, then turned to place himself, looking out over the room.

Amanda stood with a hand resting lightly on the control console, in a chiffon dress in shades of blue that seemed to reflect her quietly tearful mood. Sarek stood unusually close behind his wife, touching fingers with her in the Vulcan manner, but with his attention focused firmly on his son. Then he stepped forward, bowing slightly.

‘Good morning, Captain, Spock. And Dr McCoy.’

‘Good morning,’ Kirk said distractedly. ‘Scotty, have the others gone?’

The engineer looked up from his dials and settings on the console. ‘Aye, sir,’ he nodded. ‘They got impatient waiting, so I beamed them on down.’

‘Others?’ Spock asked, then was startled to feel his mother’s hand in his.

‘Goodbye, Spock,’ she said in a steady voice. ‘Take care of yourself. I’ll speak to you again soon.’

‘Mother – ’ Spock began, then changed his mind. Everyone seemed to be acting strangely this morning, and it seemed safer not to question it. ‘Thank you for reading to me last night,’ he told her. ‘It was enjoyable.’

‘Oh, I do love you,’ his mother said suddenly, squeezing his hand. She kissed him lightly on the cheek, then backed away, leaving Spock totally puzzled at the motives for such spontaneous bursts of human emotion.

‘Spock.’ Sarek reached out to touch his hands to Spock’s, using the family greeting rather than the formal Vulcan salute. Spock swallowed as his fingers touched his father’s, feeling slightly surprised at Sarek suddenly using such an intimate greeting, and also overwhelmed with odd emotion as he thought about not seeing his father’s face again.

‘Live long and prosper, father,’ he said – the greeting was sincere, not simply because custom demanded it.

‘Peace be with you, my son. And peace of mind.’ Spock was even more surprised as his father’s fingers brushed over the telepathic points on his face, sending a feeling rather than a message – a feeling of reassuring warmth and comfort. Then the fingers withdrew, leaving the warmth with him, and Sarek stepped back off the transporter.

‘Energise,’ Kirk said quickly as Spock opened his mouth. Scotty pushed the sliding buttons up, and the transporter whirred into action. He watched the three figures slowly fade to nothing, then turned to Spock’s parents.

‘He’ll be fine,’ he said gently, seeing Amanda’s face. ‘He’s a brave man.’

‘I know,’ she said, looking at the empty transporter chamber.

‘We’ll get you back to Vulcan, then,’ Scott smiled. ‘And I don’t mind betting the captain will be wrangling the schedule to get him back to see you as soon as possible.’


	17. Chapter 17

The transporter deposited the three officers neatly on clear, grassed-over ground beside the Vulcan science station, in what appeared to be the end of a warm, sleepy, late-summer afternoon. McCoy looked around at the new landscape that was tinted gold by the sun in the west, struck by the sudden quiet in contrast to the artificial noises of the ship. Here all that provided noise was soft wind in the trees, a few alien animals, and the soft murmur of talk from inside the house. He grunted in reluctant approval, and turned back to the others.

‘Guess I can stand a while in this place, Vulcans or not,’ he said grudgingly.

‘Captain, what is this?’ Spock asked insistently. ‘I thought we were simply invited to a meal, but my parents were acting as if they would never see me again. I am convinced that my mother was crying. My father was being almost sentimental.’

‘I’m afraid we lied, Spock,’ Kirk said carefully. ‘Or more, twisted the truth.’

‘And your deception appears to have worked, although I confess I do not know what it is. I was suspicious that something was afoot. This is Zozma?’ the Vulcan asked, visibly confused. ‘It feels like Zozma.’

‘Of course it’s Zozma. Welcome to the holiday of a lifetime, Spock!’ McCoy said, with all the zest of a tour guide.

Spock raised both eyebrows. ‘I beg your pardon, McCoy?’

‘Eight days of pure rest and enjoyment among your fellow Vulcans, all of them scientists. A roomful of computers at your disposal – and, best of all, us as company.’

‘I am not at all sure if that is a benefit, Doctor. Am I to understand that you have arranged a vacation, Captain?’ Spock spoke coolly, but Kirk could see a surprised and definitely pleased look on his face.

‘That’s right. We knew you wouldn’t take one voluntarily, but you do need one – and you can’t complain, Spock. I’m just getting you back.’

‘Getting me back to where, sir?’

‘You know what I mean. You played the same trick on me on the shore leave planet – remember?’

‘There is nothing wrong with my memory, sir.’

‘No, of course not,’ Kirk smiled. He looked up at the Earthly blue sky. ‘It is a beautiful planet, Mr Spock – not just visually.’

‘Yes, it is. Thank you, Jim. But should I leave the ship for so long?’ he asked anxiously. Truth be told, he was nervous of being in such a strange new place without seeing it.

‘The ship’s well on it’s way to Vulcan by now. It’s only a week, and you won’t be back on duty for a while anyway.’

‘It will be pleasant to be out of sickbay,’ he said, still half-doubtful.

‘Don’t you believe it,’ McCoy said firmly. ‘You won’t be getting up before nine a.m., you’ll take a three hour sleep every afternoon, you will retire to bed in the evening as soon as my scanner tells me you’re tiring, and you will not do any more walking about than is absolutely necessary. Sarek told me you almost fainted on the observation deck, and you did faint on the way back. I won’t risk you doing too much too soon.’

‘Yes, sir,’ Spock replied, raising an eyebrow. ‘Mr Kirk, do you agree with the captain?’

‘With every word,’ Kirk laughed. ‘I want you fit to return to duty before Chekov can tell me the name of every Russian scientist that ever lived – he’s already re-written the history books on the discovery of warp drive and the workings of the dilithium chambers. He’s driving poor Scotty mad.’

‘In the transporter room – you mentioned others?’

‘Yes. Sulu came down, and Uhura, and Nurse Chapel.’

‘Indeed?’ Spock’s face brightened a little. At least she understood the difficulties he encountered. ‘Maybe we should go inside? Suran will be waiting.’

‘Yes.’ Kirk looked down at the cloddy grass around the house. ‘The ground’s a little rough.’

‘I can manage.’ He held Kirk’s arm lightly and stepped forward across the uneven earth.

 

Chapel leant from a window above their heads, resting on folded arms. She watched the three men walk slowly up to the entrance to the station, then she closed the window and leant back on the sill with a sigh.

Uhura looked up in amusement. ‘What’s the matter, Christine? Love sick?’

‘I was just looking at the view – it really is beautiful out there,’ she said happily. ‘It may have been harrowing at times, but I quite enjoyed those few days away from the ship. It was – different.’

‘Different’s right. I would’ve thought you’d have hated it. All the dirt, the cold, no shoes, no proper food.’

‘It was an experience,’ she half laughed. ‘But at least it was different from the ship. It’s so sterile and mechanised up there. It’s good to see grass, and a real sky once in a while. I’d forgotten how long it was since I saw a sunset, or touched real soil. Whenever I get to go down in landing parties I’m usually taking care of a patient, not taking in the sights.’

Uhura came to the window and looked out at the forest spreading for miles beneath them, a gently swaying expanse of alien trees, every shade of green, orange and gold imaginable. The glitter of the sea was just visible on the horizon.

‘It is good to be away from the responsibilities of the ship,’ Uhura agreed. ‘You should remember that while you’re here. Don’t spend all your time helping Mr Spock – we’ll all share that. I know you’ve spent half your off-duty hours for the last two months in sickbay.’

‘It has been a long time since I had a free evening,’ she agreed. ‘He finds it so much easier just coping with one person seeing to his personal needs.’

‘He looks well enough to see to his own personal needs now.’

‘Yes, I think he is. He’s getting stronger. But when he gets tired he needs much more help, he gets more frustrated.’

‘It must be hard being frustrated, wanting to kick something or scream, if you’ve got to keep all your feelings inside you.’

Chapel looked at her conspiratorially. ‘He doesn’t always keep it inside him. We’ve had a few smashed plates in sickbay – don’t tell him I said that,’ she said quickly.

‘I’d never embarrass him by doing that,’ Uhura said honestly. ‘I like ruffling his dignity every now and then, but I wouldn’t say anything that would upset him. But aren’t you setting yourself up for more work putting his bed so close to yours?’

Chapel glanced round at the beds. Sulu in the corner, then McCoy, Kirk, tactfully separating the doctor and Spock, then her and Uhura at the end. She had arranged some strong scented flowers in vases – to give Spock some interest in the room. The suitcases stood neatly by each owner’s bed, Spock’s lyre laid carefully on his pillow.

‘It seemed like the most logical arrangement.’

‘Logical?’ Uhura echoed, one eyebrow raised in imitation of Spock.

Christine shrugged. ‘It rubs off.’

‘Don’t you feel worried?’ she asked, changing tack. ‘You’re staying on a planet linked with some kind of alien that abducted you?’

‘I don’t think she can get us here,’ she smiled. ‘The Vulcans here don’t seem to have been bothered by anything, and from what Mr Spock said, I think passing from one place to the other is more dangerous to her than useful – everything seemed to point to keeping the sea out of the cube and the cube out of the sea.’

Uhura stared out of the window at the trees again. ‘It seems so sad that he’ll never be able to see this beautiful view,’ she said wistfully, changing the subject back again. ‘I wish I could let him see through my eyes.’

‘He could,’ Chapel shrugged. ‘If he melded with you, he could see what you see – but he won’t do that. It would probably only be worse for him, to see for a few minutes, every now and then, and be in the dark the rest of the time. It’d be like torture, to only see what someone else wants to see, the way they see it, then to have to tear himself away and go back to being blind.’

‘I guess it would. He’s been so – stoical about it all, every time I went to see him. But I suppose that’s what Vulcans do. I just can’t imagine what it must be like, with only that tiniest of hopes...’

Chapel shook her head. ‘He won’t believe in that. He says it’s too small a chance to count on.’

‘I think everyone else’s hoping will make up for him not hoping,’ Uhura smiled reassuring. ‘We’d better get downstairs, Christine, before they come up looking for us.’

‘Okay,’ the nurse smiled weakly. As she turned, she noticed Uhura’s case on the floor where she’d been unpacking. ‘You better move that. He could trip. You do have to be careful.’

‘I guess I’ll learn,’ Uhura answered lazily.

‘He could hurt himself,’ Chapel insisted, then drew back. ‘I’m sorry. I know he’s not helpless. He’s not helpless at all. Don’t let him think I’m getting overprotective, will you?’ she pleaded. ‘He knows I have confidence in him, and it helps him have confidence in himself. If he begins to think he can’t do anything after all – ’

‘I’ll tell you if you – ’ She laughed quickly. ‘If you mother him too much. I’m in danger of doing that myself.’ She glanced at the nurse. ‘I think he’s quite capable of looking after himself – but our Mr Spock is loveable, as Vulcans go, isn’t he?’

‘He is more human than he makes out,’ Chapel answered uncertainly, wondering if Uhura was making fun of her, or just speaking her mind.

 

The alien carefully turned off every switch on each computer until no more lights showed on the panels. She thought about returning home. Her research in this small galaxy was over. The signals were coming from afar. Return home. Return the knowledge and locate another source of information. The pink insect-like beings from the fragile  _Enterprise_ bubble had been the last here. The two called humans, and the relatively intelligent, sightless one, who called himself Vulcan. They were gone, but even now they were worrying her. She had to detach the cube from that watery place – the foothold on the other dimension. The cube had stuck well to the substance, and had not slipped back into home dimension, but now she realised that had been an error. She had not known these beings would be foolish enough to touch the wet substance that burned the alien’s skin – or to believe they could live in it even for a few seconds with their fragile systems. But they did escape through the highest face of the cube. The membrane had been ruptured, and parts of that cold, stinging element had seeped through into the cube, and parts of the membrane escaped into the wet place. With the elements from each dimension merged, the cube was reluctant to release its hold on the world. It was imperative that they be parted. The dimensions could not be allowed to merge further. The round, hot and cold ball, covered in wet substance and dryer green substance – it was interesting. It was – what was the word she had found in the Vulcan’s mind? Beautiful. He had described the female human as beautiful, the male human as friend. This planet was both those things. It had helped the alien, and it pleased the alien to look upon it. Unfortunate that it may be damaged in the parting, but that could not be avoided. The alien must return home, and to do so the cube must be whole, and clean. It would be done.

 

Uhura stepped off the stairs and turned the corner into a large work room. She was slightly unnerved as eleven pairs of solemn, brown Vulcan eyes turned to meet her, then turned gravely back to their studies.

‘I’ve never provoked that much disinterest on entering a room before,’ she whispered to Chapel.

The nearest Vulcan looked up again and raised an eyebrow, and she realised with embarrassment that her whisper had probably been audible to every set of Vulcan ears in the room. Spock sat at the head of the table, listening attentively to the Vulcan she knew as Suran, as he read out a report on their studies. Then McCoy emerged from a well hidden chair in the corner, and went to meet them.

‘Save me,’ he urged, obviously not bothered by the listening Vulcans, who were desperately trying not to listen. ‘I haven’t heard a word of English until you two walked in. As soon as they saw you they changed language in the middle of their sentences, but they’ve been gibbering away in Vulcan since I got in here.’

‘Where are the others?’ Chapel asked quietly.

‘Oh, Jim roped Sulu into going off on a forest walk, with a Vulcan guide. Sulu’s going to regret it, but he couldn’t very well refuse the captain of the ship.’

‘ _You_ did, Doctor.’

‘I hid,’ McCoy said simply. ‘As soon as he mentioned the word hike, I went and lurked in the toilets.’

Uhura looked toward Spock. ‘What are they talking about?’

McCoy grimaced. ‘If it were me meeting a friend after many years, we’d probably be talking about the old times; the things we got up to. Not them. Listen.’

They moved closer towards the head of the table, to catch Suran’s solemn words.

‘...there are the usual mammals, birds and fish, developed much to the point that they are on Earth or Vulcan, but as yet, there are no lifeforms with a remarkable intelligence. It is a fascinating opportunity.’

‘Indeed it is,’ Spock replied with equal gravity. ‘A study of this kind has never before been heard of.’

‘You don’t realise quite how human he is on the ship until he switches into pure Vulcan mode,’ McCoy grumbled. ‘And they find this interesting.’

Suran continued, a hint of excitement detectable in his voice. ‘We have located a certain species – a breed of ape which we have named jical. It does seem to have developed a sizeable brain capacity. It will take thousands of years, of course, for it to develop further.’

‘Naturally.’

McCoy became interested suddenly, and pulled up a chair. ‘Do you mean you’re witnessing the actual evolution of human life?’ he asked incredulously.

‘Humanoid life, Dr McCoy,’ Spock corrected him.

‘You know what I mean, Spock. We’re seeing what happened millions and millions of years ago on Earth.’

‘Correct,’ Suran nodded. ‘But the humanoid development here is remarkably late. Most other animals are in the latter stages of evolution. These apes are beginning some form of intelligent communication, they have an awareness of their own identity, and of the identities of others, they have individual names. They build nests paying attention not only to practicality, but also to aesthetics. They have developed a number of tools for opening fruits and building their nests, and even fashion objects which seem to have no purpose but to amuse the young. They live in small communities with a strong sense of family commitment. They are aware of right and wrong, the emotions of love, friendship, hatred, not simply pain, comfort and fear. We can project that they will slowly develop into a highly intelligent life form.’

‘Do you have any of the animals in your laboratories?’ McCoy asked curiously.

Suran displayed almost human shock at the question, but he kept his voice calm. ‘Doctor, we would not imprison animals in our studies. They are intelligent enough to be reached by mindmeld, and friendly enough to be approached, so much of the work can be done in the field. We could not risking destroying a community by taking the dominant female, or upset them by taking a child. We must consider the rights of the animal.’

‘Of course,’ McCoy said, half ashamed. ‘I never thought of them having families.’

‘I could call a jical,’ Suran suggested. ‘If you wish to see one?’

McCoy’s eyes opened in surprise. ‘Can you do that? It’d be fascinating to see a living specimen of early humanoids.’

Suran bowed his head in acknowledgement. ‘Will you come, Spock?’

‘I am interested in the opportunity to make contact with the creature.’

‘Do you require guidance?’ the Vulcan asked, as Spock unfolded his cane.

‘Thank you, Suran.’ Spock took the offered arm, and found his way out of the busy room. Then he felt warm sunlight, and knew they were outside, standing on hard, smooth ground. ‘I did not realise the area around the house was paved,’ he said.

‘It’s a veranda,’ McCoy explained. ‘With a clear roof, and steps down from it.’

They went down to the rough earth that began the forest, and walked slowly away from the house. Suran took them within ten metres of the fringe trees, then he crouched on the ground.

‘If you would all be silent? The jical will not know you, and may be apprehensive.’

McCoy’s eyebrows raised Spockishly as Suran began to make rough chirping noises in the back of his throat. The doctor sat back on his heels, waiting, while the others settled on the ground. Just as he was deciding nothing would come, there was a noise in the woods. A large monkey-like creature came towards them hesitantly, walking almost perfectly erect on strong legs.

The jical was covered in dark, olive coloured fur, but the hair stopped around the face, showing green, leathery skin and a broad nose. The lips drew back a little from sharp teeth and the eyes were round and deep-set, but with a glimmer of intelligence. Spock’s face grew interested as he sensed the telepathy between Suran and the animal. He increased his own until he could add his own thoughts to the exchange. There were no voices, except Chapel quietly murmuring to Spock what the creature looked like. The ape stopped, then came on again, holding something out in its hands. A bunch of oval fruit, McCoy realised. Then the creature sat, mimicking the humans and Vulcans, offering the fruit to Suran. The Vulcan nodded thanks, and proceeded to tear away the hard orange-pink rind of one of the fist sized fruit.

‘Hang on a minute,’ the doctor protested. ‘You’re not going to eat that?’

‘It is perfectly hygienic,’ Suran said calmly, biting at the bright red flesh. ‘It is a offering of friendship – and a delicious fruit,’ he added, passing the rest of the bunch for the others to share. McCoy passed his scanner over the fruit, then nodded consent.

The jical held out cupped hands towards Suran, obviously waiting for something. Suran dug into his pocket and brought out something that looked like sugar cubes.

‘I do not approve of offering the animal sweets,’ he said. ‘But this was the first thing we used to tempt him, and he does like it. See how he saves some for his family?’

McCoy watched as the ape stuffed half of the sugar into a pouch in his stomach.

‘They are not marsupials,’ the Vulcan informed them. ‘The pouch is merely for convenience, for carrying foodstuffs. We named this particular jical H’luma. He visits whenever we call him, and sometimes simply because he is interested.’

‘May I touch him?’ Spock asked, then strengthened his mind contact with the creature to ask it himself.

‘He is approaching you,’ Suran warned him.

‘I hear him.’ Spock held out a hand, and was surprised to feel a warm leathery one closing around it. The ape came to squat in front of him, its unusual pale blue eyes level with the Vulcan. Then it put both hands on Spock’s shoulders and examined him closely.

‘He’s looking at your eyes, Mr Spock,’ Uhura realised. ‘He doesn’t know what to make of it.’

H’luma moved a finger slowly towards Spock’s eye, then drew it back quickly, staring enquiringly at Suran. He looked back again and gave a small sobbing noise. Then he bounded away on all fours, retreating into the forest.

‘It upset him,’ McCoy said in amazement. ‘Spock, it upset him that you couldn’t see. Or it frightened him. He ran away.’

‘He didn’t seem scared,’ Spock corrected. ‘He seemed – to empathise!’

They sat watching the forest. ‘He’s coming back,’ Chapel said quietly, a few minutes later. ‘Carrying something. It’s a baby jical.’

‘It is older than that,’ said Suran. ‘But it is one of their young. I do not know whether it is the male’s child, or another of the community.’

The jical walked back to Spock, placing the baby in his arms. Spock felt over it carefully. ‘This is the jical-child?’

‘Yes,’ McCoy said, coming closer. Gently he lifted the animal from Spock’s arms, and looked at it. ‘That’s why he empathised, Spock. This jical has no eyes.’ He moved his scanner over the animal’s head, while the adult hovered anxiously beside him. ‘No. It does have eyes, but the openings never formed. It can’t open its eyes.’

‘Can you help it?’ Uhura asked anxiously.

‘I’m trained as a doctor, not a vet, but I think I can. I should just have to open the skin, seal the cut edges, and it’ll see, provided the eyes are healthy. Should only take a few seconds.’

‘Then there is no reason to not help it,’ Spock said quickly. ‘You may do it now.’

‘I’ll take it inside,’ McCoy told him. ‘Unless you want to do it, Suran? You’re the doctor here.’

The quiet Vulcan shook his head. ‘As you said, the title is doctor, not veterinary surgeon. I have only had experience treating Vulcans and humans – I am sure you have far more experience with different lifeforms.’

‘Finally a Vulcan that admits he doesn’t know something,’ McCoy smiled. ‘You could learn something here, Spock.’

‘Doctor, I am always ready to admit lacking the necessary knowledge,’ Spock replied smoothly. ‘It is simply that since so often it is you who lacks the knowledge, I seem to have all the answers.’

McCoy opened his mouth to answer, then changed his mind, opening his medical kit instead, and filling a hypo. As he moved it toward the small jical, the adult made a loud angry sound and pulled the child away. Suran quickly put his hand on the ape’s face.

‘We will help the child,’ he said, his eyes glazed in mindmeld. ‘It will not hurt and she will be able to see.’

Slowly the creature relaxed, and laid the child back in front of McCoy. Its lips twisted into a grotesque imitation of a smile, showing yellow teeth. McCoy smiled back reassuringly, and administered the sedative. As soon as the drug took effect he lifted the child and carried it inside, followed by the rest of the small group.

‘Where can I do this?’ he asked Suran.

‘Follow me.’


	18. Chapter 18

Suran led the party into a small, sterile looking room near the back of the science station, and spread a light cloth over a oblong table. ‘You may put the animal here,’ he said softly. ‘It’s our medical room, so it will be quite clean.’

McCoy looked around briefly at the stacked shelves of medical supplies and instruments, and nodded in satisfaction. He laid the jical carefully on the cloth, then looked up at the group of people that were squashed in the small space.

‘I don’t want everyone crowding round, breathing all over my patient. Mr Spock, I’ll need you over here to help me.’

‘Of course, Doctor.’ Spock moved towards McCoy as Suran and Uhura moved away, and the doctor took his hands, putting them to the unconscious animal’s legs.

‘Hold the legs still, firmly, in case it wakes and kicks,’ McCoy told him. ‘I don’t know how long the tranquilliser will be effective.’ He took a small surgical scalpel from his kit. ‘Nurse,’ he called. ‘You hold the creature’s head steady. If it moves and I cut the eyes – ’

‘Yes, sir.’ She cradled the head between her hands, and McCoy began to cut. In a matter of seconds, both eyes were opened, and he sealed the cut edges.

‘Okay. The eyes are healthy, Spock,’ he smiled. ‘Better give me a hypo of acrolin, Christine. We don’t want any infection damaging the eyes until they’re properly used to the exposure.’

The nurse passed the hypo over to him, and he shot the contents into the jical’s shoulder.

‘Is it done?’ Spock asked calmly.

‘It’s done. When she wakes up she’ll be a much happier jical. You can let go her legs now.’

H’luma pushed past the group of people, and touched the sleeping child. As it woke, he gibbered to it reassuringly and questioningly. Then he chattered excitedly, pumping McCoy’s hand.

‘He has seen the handshake between human visitors,’ Suran explained. ‘He is grateful.’

Then the jical turned back to Spock, gently pushing him towards the table, and nudging McCoy. When the doctor shook his head, the jical began to gesture insistently. Suran took the animal by the hand and led it out of the room, and Uhura followed, carefully carrying the jical-child. Spock moved away from the table slowly.

‘Dr McCoy, are you still here?’ he asked.

‘I’m here,’ McCoy nodded.

‘Mr Spock, why don’t you come sit down?’ Chapel asked. ‘You look tired.’

‘I am,’ he nodded, so Chapel took him through into the station’s warm red sitting room.

‘Nurse, what was the animal doing?’ Spock asked.

‘There’s a chair behind you,’ she told him, then explained, ‘I think he wanted Dr McCoy to operate on you too. Suran will explain to him.’

‘That there is no hope?’ Spock asked, sinking into the deep armchair he felt behind him. Orange, he told himself, as the flood of rays from the upholstery touched his skin. He was managing to attune himself more to the feel of colours in objects – although he was sure it would never really be of any use to feel such vague masses of colour.

‘There is hope. You know there’s hope,’ Chapel insisted.

‘Five point two three percent. That is too small a hope to rely on. I shall not see again.’

Nurse Chapel sat down dejectedly on the broad arm of the chair.

‘Mr Spock, that isn’t certain,’ she pushed. ‘You have to hope.’

‘It is fact. One cannot run from the truth. What just happened brought home the fact that nothing can be done for me. I do want to see. I want that very much, Christine, more than I can express. But I do know the difference between fantasy and reality. Once they become merged there is little point in even trying to think sensibly.’ He paused, listening. ‘Miss Chapel, are you all right?’

‘Yes, Mr Spock, I’m fine.’

He shook his head. ‘You’re lying to me – you sound upset.’ He reached out and touched her cheek, feeling wetness. ‘Nurse, I did not mean to upset you.’

‘You didn’t. I’m upsetting myself,’ she said, trying to smile. ‘I – just can’t bear to think of you living every day in the dark, and having no hope.’

‘Christine, I am capable of lying too,’ Spock admitted. ‘I spend every waking moment hoping, but there are too many disappointments. I begin to imagine I’m seeing light when I know I’m not. The disappointment after that is what is unbearable. Surely you don’t want me to go on hoping when it makes me feel so cold?’

‘Not if it makes you feel like that, but – ’

He set his face unemotionally. ‘It’s best to simply accept the situation. That is what I am trying hard to do. I know I’m not doing it as well as I would wish, but it’s all I can do.’

‘I know.’ She squeezed his hand gently, then glanced out of the window at the green and golden trees. ‘Do you want to go outside again?’

‘I would rather go upstairs. I’m very tired. I need sleep.’

Chapel looked at him sadly. She could hardly remember Spock actually asking to take a rest before. His face was white and exhausted.

‘Come with me, then,’ she said, helping him to his feet. ‘I’ll show you your bed. Take my arm.’

‘Thank you, Nurse.’

‘We put a quilt on your bed, Mr Spock. All the others have only blankets. You’ll be able to feel which bed is yours, and it’s warmer for you.’

‘Most considerate.’

As she guided him from the room Uhura quietly slipped back outside from the hall, to wait by the door. When Chapel came downstairs she saw her in the entrance.

‘I’m sorry,’ Uhura said as they went out into the sunlight. ‘I was outside the room and I heard you talking. I didn’t know Mr Spock felt like that.’

‘You had to see him when it happened.’

Uhura pointed to the edge of the forest. ‘The captain’s back. H’luma went back into the trees when Suran explained to him about Mr Spock. I think he was upset.’

Kirk was striding towards the house, while Sulu limped after him. McCoy followed them both, grinning broadly.

‘I told you, didn’t I?’ he shouted to the two women. He pointed at Sulu’s feet. ‘Blisters!’

‘Where’s Spock?’ Kirk asked when he was in talking range.

‘Having a sleep,’ Chapel said quietly. She put her hand on Kirk’s arm. ‘Don’t go up to him, sir. I think he wants to be alone for a while. He’s really very tired.’

‘I’ll just go tell him I’m back.’ He was jogging up the stairs before the nurse could protest. ‘Spock, you should’ve come! It was – Spock?’ He bounded into the dormitory, and skidded to a stop, his grin fading. The screen for Spock’s bed had been pulled around, shutting it off from the room. He went forward curiously, hearing a noise he couldn’t quite believe. ‘Spock? You’re not asleep, are you?’

He slipped round into the small cubicle. Spock was curled in the bed, his back to the captain. Kirk bent over him and put a hand on the Vulcan’s shoulder.

‘Spock. Are you all right?’

‘I am only tired,’ came a muffled voice, in a tone that clearly wanted the conversation to go no further.

‘Spock.’ Kirk folded the quilt off Spock’s head and the Vulcan tried to shield his face with his hands. ‘You’re not crying?’

‘Captain, I am tired,’ Spock said more desperately. ‘Let me sleep.’

‘No,’ Kirk said firmly. ‘I’m your friend. Talk to me. Let me see your face.’

Spock clenched his hands until they trembled, and his voice was soaked through with repressed anger. ‘Why would you want to look at these useless eyes? What can they tell you? That I am a failure to my race, that I am so weak I am incapable to cope with the smallest thing, and that I am so hindered I cannot move about a room or eat a meal without people’s hands guiding me?’

‘Spock, would you rather talk to someone else? McCoy, or one of the Vulcans?’

‘No. No one will see me. You must allow no one to see me.’

Spock closed his eyes, turning away further. He wished desperately that Jim would have the courage to stay and talk to him, instead of offering and then seeming to be scared away when he admitted his weaknesses and fears. Jim’s chair creaked as he stood up, and his footsteps began to move away across the room, but they stopped suddenly, and returned, and Jim’s hand pressed firmly on his shoulder.

‘Shall I sit with you, Spock – until you go to sleep?’ Kirk asked gently.

‘You would rather be elsewhere. I know you are sickened by my blindness, Jim.’

Kirk stopped, speechless with surprise that the Vulcan should think that.

‘Spock, that’s not true,’ he said after a moment. ‘I – I guess I’m scared by it,’ he admitted. ‘I know I shouldn’t be, but I am. I don’t know what to say to you, or how to talk to you. I never do know what to do each time I see you in sickbay, whether it’s because you’ve been shot or ill or – or something worse – and I can’t help you. You’re always so strong, so together.’

Spock turned over slowly, his anger dissipating a little when he heard his friend’s confession.

‘Jim, you must allow me to be a mortal being,’ he said. ‘I need your support now more than I ever do when I am standing on the bridge or beaming down in landing parties. I am scared.’

His voice trembled on that last sentence, and Jim took hold of his hand, holding it tightly, knowing his own voice wouldn’t be steady either.

‘Spock, I’m going to be here, all the time,’ he promised. ‘I will help you – to become independent. I know that’s what hurts you most. I guess there’s things you want to learn alone, but when you want me, I’ll help you. You’ll be back on the bridge in a few months.’

Spock closed his eyes again at that optimistic promise. At the moment he couldn’t ever envisage himself standing on the bridge interpreting data and instructing his captain, holding command over four hundred and twenty eight people with only Jim above him.

‘It will happen, Spock,’ Kirk promised again.

‘Yes, Jim,’ he acquiesced softly. Even if it did, he didn’t want to spend two hundred years without light, left behind after his friends and parents grew old and died. He just wanted the impossible, for time to turn back and give him his sight back. ‘It aches, constantly,’ he said in a near whisper.

‘Of course you’ll grieve – it’s natural.’

Spock could still feel the grief that had emanated from his mother’s mind, and remembered feeling the same from Sarek, both feelings astonishingly similar to how he felt now. By letting them know, he had simply pained both of them, exposed them to sadness and worry, in the same way that he exposed every one of his friends that came near him. But Jim was still there, tucking the thick quilt better over his shoulders, exposing himself to yet more grief. He didn’t know how to bear existence when it pained so many people to be near him, when he took up so much of their time as they helped him to do things he should be able to manage himself. He lay silent and unresisting as Jim seemed to decide simple words weren’t helping, and pulled him closer to hug him against his chest, and he tried to force himself to sleep as soon as possible, so Jim wouldn’t feel bound to stay. For some reason Jim’s shirt seemed to be getting wet under his face, and he realised he was crying again, although his body just felt cold and numb.

After a while Jim looked down at the Vulcan, and saw that he finally seemed to be asleep, so he settled Spock back into bed and wandered downstairs. Nurse Chapel stood anxiously at the bottom, waiting for his report.

‘Was he asleep, Captain?’

‘No,’ Kirk said slowly. ‘But he is now.’

Chapel’s eyes rested on Kirk’s golden top. ‘Your shirt’s wet, sir.’

‘He was crying,’ he said sadly. ‘He didn’t even seem to know he was. He just lay there crying until he fell asleep. Sometimes I can feel some emotion when he has his guard down, but all I could feel was a void – coldness. Did something happen to him when I was outside?’

‘Something reminded him how permanent his blindness is. He was fine, then he just suddenly seemed to collapse inside. He became very tired. How was he when you went up?’

‘He didn’t say much, but he seemed – very angry, very upset, confused and scared. More scared than he’ll admit to anyone – and beating himself up about it terribly. It’s so hard to tell how he’s feeling, though. He puts up such a wall, pretends he’s fine, but it seems to really get to him when he’s alone and he has time to think.’

‘Vulcans are supposed to find it so much harder to come to terms with blindness. It could take months.’

‘Would you sit with him for a while? I think he needs someone, and I don’t want him to wake up alone.’

‘Of course, sir.’ She tiptoed lightly upstairs and into the bedroom in time to see Spock sitting straight up in bed. She got to him just before he cried out, catching his arms lightly in her fists.

‘It’s all right, Mr Spock,’ she said quickly, lying him back down. ‘I’m here now. It’s all right.’

His eyes were still tightly closed, as if he were afraid to open them to blackness. ‘I could see. I could see...’

‘No,’ she told him gently. ‘It was a dream.’

‘Everything was clear. The room I was in, the edges of the hatch. Then I pulled it open, and – it was as if the universe exploded.’ Spock gasped, then caught his breath, speaking calmly. ‘I’m sorry. I let it catch up with me again. I couldn’t face the dream.’

‘It’s okay.’ She began to put her arms around him, then withdrew, remembering he was still a Vulcan, no matter how upset. ‘I’m sorry, Mr Spock. I shouldn’t have touched you.’

‘I need touch,’ Spock told her, his voice sounding abstracted, speaking as much to the air as anyone else. ‘I can’t see now. I need my hands.’

She sat down and laid a hand gently on his arm. Something in his voice worried her. ‘I’m going to stay with you now,’ she promised. ‘I’ll be in the next bed all night, and the captain’ll be on the other side.’

His face turned to her now. ‘I know.’ His voice faltered. ‘Christine – ?’

‘I’m here.’

Something seemed to have collapsed inside him when he spoke. His voice shook, and she saw his hands were shaking too. ‘I – I want to see you, Christine. For two months, my whole body has been like a shell. I have tried to bear it, but I have nothing inside...’

Her heart flopped over at the look on his face, like a child who was lost and scared. ‘I’m here.’ She took his hand and touched it to her cheek. It was surprisingly cold. ‘You can feel me. I’m here.’

Spock closed his eyes, suddenly trembling all over, and Chapel saw tears squeeze out and run down his cheeks in glistening rivers.

‘That’s right,’ she whispered. ‘Just cry if you need to. Just cry.’

She sat silent by the bed with her hand on his arm, until he had stopped shaking. He opened his eyes again, slowly, and wiped the tears away with his palms. His face was white.

‘Nurse, I’m not sure I know my own mind any more,’ he said seriously. ‘This constant fight between logic and emotion, the need to see and the knowledge that I shall never see. I’ve become irrational, emotional. I have feelings and thoughts that terrify me. I feel as if I scream loud enough, it would bring my sight back. If I hit my head against a wall, or jumped from a building, it would make light appear. I – I think it is driving me insane.’

‘No. No, it’s not. I promise. You just have to let it out a little. Scream if you feel you have to. And talk. Don’t hide the emotion. Talk to us.’

‘I would have liked to have some time, before it happened. Time for my mind to adjust, instead of this – this turmoil in my head. Death is preferable to this life without hope or purpose. To this insanity.’

‘You’re not insane. You still have purpose. You can’t see, but you can still investigate things, search for knowledge. You don’t know how many people you’d hurt if you died.’

His face composed unemotionally again, but his voice wasn’t convincing. ‘I should not be burdening you with my problems. You must not let me spoil your shore leave.’

‘Mr Spock, you’re saving me from have to listen to a lot of scientists for the rest of the evening.’

‘I am a scientist.’

‘You don’t talk about it all the time. You should sleep now, Mr Spock. You’re very tired.’

‘Nurse, how can I even begin to be an efficient first officer again?’ he asked suddenly. ‘How do I head landing parties when I cannot navigate the corridors of _Enterprise_ alone?’

‘You’ve hardly been out of bed yet. It will take time. Mr Scott spends half his free time with Dr McCoy, researching, discussing ways to make things easier. You can design aids for yourself. And you don’t know that maybe one day someone will invent something so you can really see.’

‘Please,’ he said. ‘I can still reason with some logic. I know that is impossible.’

‘It might happen,’ she pleaded. ‘And even if it doesn’t, of course you’ll be able to do your job, with practice.’

‘Jim has never seemed very trusting of people with disabilities.’

‘He trusts you, Mr Spock. You’re still the same person, and even if he’s reluctant to let you do some things, you have Starfleet’s backing. I know that Captain Kirk wants you back on the bridge more than anyone does. He trusts in your ability. It might take time for you to learn again, but you can do it.’

Spock shook his head, resigned. ‘I have merely been fooling myself. I do not know why I ever believed I could. When I return to  _Enterprise_ , I shall resign my commission and return to Vulcan to live with my parents. I’ll find some job. I can still play my lyre. I could work playing that.’

Chapel shook her head. ‘Mr Spock, you can play very well, but you’re not a musician – you’re a scientist. You know no Vulcan orchestra would take you, and you wouldn’t want them to.’

‘I don’t know what else to do,’ he said flatly.

‘You need to carry on learning, and get your confidence back. Have you noticed how you talk now? You ask people to do things that you could probably do yourself, you wait for someone else to suggest things before you do, you always take the passive part in conversations. You have to start being a scientist again, and a commander again, asking questions, telling people to do things. Ask for help if you need it, but don’t ask for help just because people expect you to. If you act like the _Enterprise_ ’s science officer again, maybe you’ll begin to feel like him again.’

Spock lay silent a moment, considering the overwhelming logic of the woman’s speech. ‘I shall carry on trying,’ he said, making sure his voice was firm.

‘Good. I know it won’t change overnight – you’ll probably go backwards as well as forwards, but it will change.’

‘You will say nothing of this conversation to the captain or anyone else.’

‘Of course I won’t. Mr Spock, did you know they have a piano here?’ she asked suddenly.

‘No, but I might have guessed there would be. Vulcans never developed the keyboard, and it fascinates many of us.’

‘I thought maybe you’d like to play it. I can play duets,’ she said hopefully.

‘Tomorrow,’ he promised. ‘At the moment, I feel too tired to sit downstairs – but if you will bring Suran’s notes on the development of the sub-species jihal-novin, and read them to me, I may be able to formulate an interesting essay of my conclusions – if you are willing to be dictated to. I have no writing equipment.’

‘Yes, sir,’ she said in her best on-duty manner, and got up to leave the room.

Spock listened to her walking downstairs. He had no real wish to be writing essays at the moment, but maybe, as she said, going through the actions would restore some of the pleasure of the work. He knew that when his mood was positive the research done on this station was interesting enough to engross him and make him forget everything else.

 

When the others came to bed they found Chapel half slumped in her seat, sleeping as deeply as Spock, whose bed was covered in sheets of print-outs and the beginnings of an essay in an odd looking handwriting. Uhura was first in, and held her fingers to her lips as the men clumped up the stairs noisily. She carefully gathered together the papers and put them by Spock’s bed, then put her hands on Chapel’s shoulders to stand her up.

‘Huh?’ The nurse’s eyes came open sleepily.

‘Time to go to your own bed,’ Uhura whispered. ‘Come on. He’ll be okay.’

‘Am I asleep?’ she asked, muddled.

‘Yes.’ She sat Christine down on her bed and found a night-dress from the case. ‘So get changed before you wake up.’

‘Mmm.’ She fought her way into the nightie and crawled under the covers, falling asleep again almost immediately. Uhura turned to check on Spock. His arm was hanging out from under the quilt, his fingers clenched around a pen and ruler. She slid them out of his grasp with surprise, then looked again at the paper. It was Spock’s handwriting, all the letters very carefully formed and flattened at the bottom where the ruler had been to keep them straight. She pushed his cold arm back under the covers and tucked the quilt in around him, then straightened to go to her own bed. Kirk’s arm stopped her.

‘You want me to tuck you in too, sir?’ she asked cheekily.

‘You can tuck me in,’ offered Sulu, his head bobbing up over the screen around his bed.

‘Shh,’ Uhura nodded at the two beds already occupied. ‘Or I just might. Did you want something, Captain?’ she asked Kirk.

‘Only to say that you never cease to amaze me, Uhura. One moment Chief Communications Officer, next, electrician, singer, musician – now mother – what else do you have up your sleeve?’

‘Oh, many surprises.’

‘What was that you were reading?’

She smiled. ‘Mr Spock’s been writing another scientific paper. I’m glad to see it – he’s seemed so depressed.’

‘He’s had a lot of ups and downs,’ McCoy warned her. ‘And I doubt this is the end of them.’

 

Kirk sat up in bed and rubbed his eyes. Golden light was streaming in through the large dormitory window. McCoy was standing on the other side of the room, staring out of the long window. Kirk yawned and stretched, then asked, ‘What time is it Bones?’

The doctor turned from the glass, obviously in a good mood. ‘About an hour after breakfast,’ he grinned.

‘Did I oversleep?’

‘Compared to the Vulcans, we all did. Ever heard the one, up with the lark? Well you can change it. Up with the Vulcans would be far more accurate.’

‘Where are they all? I don’t hear them.’

‘Some of them are off watching grass grow, or something. The others are downstairs. I don’t know – you’d hardly know they were here, they keep themselves so private. They speak to you for a second to introduce themselves, then melt away into the scenery.’

‘Spock’s up?’

‘Yes. He seemed quite bright this morning. Looks stronger, too. Last night probably helped.’

‘Last night?’ the captain echoed, trying to look puzzled.

‘I know he was crying, Jim. I’m not a detective, but with Christine up with him all evening, and you either up there too, or sitting downstairs with a face like a wet weekend... But he was quite positive when he woke up. He’s outside with all his little nursemaids fussing over him. Even Sulu.’

‘He was so upset last night. Sight was so important to him. I saw him once, stare at a forest for a whole morning on shore leave. He just stood and absorbed every tiny detail, then went back to the ship and made detailed drawings of everything he’d seen. He can never do that now. He was so independent.’

‘There’s no reason why he can’t be now, if he’ll only realise it. He’s trying to deal with it logically, and he can’t. He has to let himself accept the emotions he feels, then he’ll overcome them.’

‘He can’t cope with it, Bones. I don’t know if he ever will.’

‘What do you expect him to do, Jim? Sit patiently in a chair with his hands neatly folded in his lap, never complaining and never shedding a tear? He’s not a hero. Very few people are.’

‘I know that, Bones. But I just don’t see why he can’t cope.’

McCoy sighed wearily. ‘Jim, he’s a Vulcan – he’s lost his sight. Vulcans like to be aware of everything. You know Spock would rather die than have his mind damaged – losing the awareness of the visual world is a kind of mind damage to Vulcans. They adapt quite easily to the physical side, but mentally it’s a different story – they find it a lot harder than humans to come to terms with it in their mind. They get depressed, confused, angry, scared, and they’ve never felt like that before. Vulcans have committed suicide over sight loss, once they convince themselves it’s the only logical option. But Spock won’t,’ he added hurriedly. ‘Aside from anything else, I won’t give him the chance. And with his human side, hopefully he’ll realise one sense less isn’t so tragic after all.’

‘If he doesn’t?’

‘Jim, he’ll get his sight back. I promise. One day, one year, two years, twenty. No matter how long, he’ll get it back. He’s a born fighter.’

‘He’s given up hope.’

‘Maybe he says he’s given up hope. Maybe he thinks he’s given up hope, but I couldn’t believe he’d ever truly give up. Not Spock.’

‘It didn’t _have_ to happen,’ Kirk said with a sudden, bitter anger. ‘There were other people that could have gone.’

‘Then someone else would be blind. Maybe someone else would be dead. Only a Vulcan could survive those burns, those fumes. You can’t blame yourself, Jim. No one’s to blame. I know it’s a tragedy for it to happen – to happen to someone like Spock – but we can’t change it, and we have to accept it just like he’s trying to do. Just like he has to do. He can’t do that without our support.’

‘I know.’ Kirk tried to sit up, then flopped back, moaning. ‘Oh, my muscles ache.’

‘That’ll teach to you to go off hiking for half the afternoon. You look tired.’

‘I guess I’ve been worrying too much. I’ve got a red alert signal right here.’ Kirk pressed his hand to the base of his skull at the back of his neck. ‘I can’t get rid of the feeling that that alien is somewhere here, waiting to pounce again. I had a subspace message from Scotty last night – two people disappeared from the Excaliber, and returned a day later with bad internal injuries and blood loss. They still haven’t regained consciousness.’

‘The Excaliber’s posted fifteen star systems away, isn’t it, Jim? That probably means this alien’s moved – it’s nowhere near this planet now.’

‘Maybe...’

‘Jim, there is a ship assigned to this problem. Let them deal with it. The point of a holiday is to relax. Come on.’ He heaved Kirk out of bed and threw him some trousers. ‘Come out into that sun and do some relaxing for a change.’ He smiled. ‘Now that’s a medical order, Captain.’

McCoy was downstairs before Kirk could argue. The captain dressed hurriedly, and came down to find all of his shore leave party gathered on the veranda.

‘Morning, Spock,’ he called, striding over to the Vulcan.

Spock nodded without turning. ‘Good morning, Jim.’

The captain lowered his voice to a pitch only for Spock’s ears. ‘How are you now?’

‘Better, thank you, Jim,’ he replied just as softly, without moving.

The Vulcan was sitting on the edge of the low platform holding a large bag of food scraps, flanked by the rest of the landing party, all of them still as painted statues.

‘What – is – going – on?’ Kirk asked slowly.

‘You will soon see, Captain.’ Spock stayed stone still. ‘Come sit down, but be quiet.’

Then Kirk noticed Suran standing as if he had taken root a little way from the house.

‘What’s he doing?’ he asked, slipping down by Spock.

‘We’re waiting,’ Uhura said helpfully.

‘For what?’ Kirk almost exploded, and was bombarded by a joint shhh from the humans, and a polite, ‘If you would keep your voice down, Captain,’ from the Vulcan.

Then a small furry creature scurried out from the shade of the trees and stopped at Suran’s feet. The Vulcan picked the animal up gently and turned around.

‘More will come now,’ he said, and as if on cue, a few birds and small animals came into the clearing. A lizard hissed its way over the ground and Suran came back onto the veranda.

‘It is illogical to waste,’ he told Kirk. ‘We give our left-over food to the animals. As a result, some have become quite tame.’

‘I can see.’ The lizard was rubbing itself around Suran’s leg like a cat does to its favourite person. Its small tongue flickered hungrily, then caught and curled deftly around a tit-bit as the Vulcan dropped it into its mouth.

‘Spock.’ Suran bent and placed the furry bear-like creature in Spock’s arms. ‘This is a junuah. It will not bite or scratch. He will touch you,’ Suran said quietly to the animal, with his fingertips lightly on its forehead. ‘There is nothing to fear.’

Spock’s eyebrows lifted with obvious curiosity as he touched the creature’s fur, and let his fingertips sink down to the skin. ‘It is interesting,’ he said, keeping his voice low. ‘The coat seems to provide effective insulation against cold. What type of an animal is it?’

‘A bear-like mammal. An omnivore, sometimes scavenger. This is a young male – we think he is orphaned. He does possess sharp fangs for dealing with abandoned carcasses, but he is not a hunter, and not naturally aggressive.’

‘And the appearance?’

‘The fur is deep red-brown,’ Suran told him. ‘He has small black eyes and a wet black nose like that of an Earth dog. His ears are small and rounded. He looks very much like a small bear, but he is not so ungainly.’

‘Fascinating.’ Spock continued to feel carefully over the junuah’s head and face. ‘He is remarkably docile – and tolerant of my probing.’

‘Oh, it’s lovely,’ Uhura said softly, reaching out to stroke the animal with a smile on her dark face. ‘It’s such a lovely rich brown, Mr Spock. Why don’t you give it some food, sir?’

Spock dipped his hand into the bag and drew out a scrap of fruit. The junuah took it from his fingers and ate it with surprising delicacy, then washed its face carefully with its paws. It took another piece, then another, until it was satisfied, then curled up with a grunt in Spock’s lap, trying to sleep in the warm sun.

Spock passed the bag to Sulu, who began distributing food to the rest of the birds and animals. The Vulcan tried to lift the small junuah to the ground, but it closed its paws on his top, clinging to it tightly. Eventually he managed to unhook the claws from the fabric and put the animal down. As he walked slowly toward the back of the veranda the junuah followed, making pleading, chirping noises.

‘I think you have a friend,’ Kirk laughed, joining the Vulcan.

‘I beg your pardon?’ Then Spock felt strong paws clinging around his ankle. The Vulcan bent and picked the junuah up, and it promptly attached itself to his shirt again. Spock gave a martyred look and went back to the chair Suran had put out for him, letting his body sink into the soft cushions.

‘Have you had breakfast, Spock?’ Kirk asked him.

‘Before you woke – I ate outside with Suran.’

‘You don’t mind if I go to have mine?’

‘No, captain.’

Spock waited until Kirk had gone, then relaxed back into the chair, letting the warm sun penetrate his tired bones. He could feel it would still be a long time before he could go about daily life without having to rest every ten minutes. He closed his eyes and sat listening to the chatter of the humans near him, and Suran’s low, smooth answers. For a disconcerting moment he was gripped with a sick envy as he heard the Vulcan pointing out a bird in the trees, then he remembered Sarek warning him about the dangers of wanting things he could not have. He shut the voices out of his mind, and began to absorb the other sounds and smells around, to build up the best picture he could of his surroundings, his hands unconsciously stroking the junuah as it slept in his lap. After a length of time he hadn’t measured, his concentration was disturbed by Jim’s voice.

‘You just can’t help it, can you?’ he asked laughingly.

‘Sir?’

‘You don’t have to call me sir. We’re on holiday, Spock.’

‘Of course, Jim. Would you explain your remark, sir?’

Kirk sighed, then chuckled. ‘Once you have a furry creature in your lap you just can’t help petting it, can you?’

‘He is an amiable creature, Captain – with a remarkable aptitude for finding comfortable spots in which to sleep.

‘Well don’t let McCoy see you.’

‘I believe he already has. He used a surprisingly expressive but wholly inaccurate adjective to describe the sight.’

‘Which one was that?’

‘I heard him call me soppy.’ Spock let the word fall from his lips with distaste – then his face lost the disgusted expression, and regained a serious one.

‘What’s wrong, Spock?’ Kirk asked. ‘I know that look.’

‘Captain, I am not entirely happy about our situation here,’ Spock admitted.

‘Explain.’

‘We were taken by an unknown alien, held prisoner and medically examined. We escaped from her ship through some kind of dimensional portal that led to this planet. The alien obviously has a connection with this place, and the _Enterprise_ has simply left, with no kind of investigation having taken place.’

‘It has been investigated. We did full scans of the planet, and didn’t turn anything up, Spock,’ Kirk said, trying to sound nonchalant. There was no point in worrying the Vulcan by discussing his own unease. ‘I had a full discussion with all the ranking officers and we decided that there was no more danger – the alien’s gone.’

‘I see,’ Spock said rather slowly. Kirk could see something in his face, as if the Vulcan was annoyed at what he had heard. ‘If I had been on duty – ’

‘Spock, you’re not on duty – not yet. You’re on sick leave, and right now you’re on vacation.’

‘I was involved. I had the fullest contact with the alien.’

‘We didn’t deliberately exclude you – you were fast asleep in sickbay when I called the meeting. A bomb under your bed wouldn’t have woken you, and Bones certainly wouldn’t let me try. You should be relaxing now, Spock – you definitely shouldn’t be thinking about ship matters.’

‘What would you suggest I think of, Captain?’ Spock asked irritably. ‘The beautiful scenery? The sunlight through the trees? I cannot go out for long walks alone or indulge myself in card games as you do. If I do not study, the most I can do is sit in the warmth outside and listen to other people occupying themselves with their own pursuits.’

‘Spock – ’

‘I am sorry, Jim. But I do need something to occupy my mind – losing my eyesight doesn’t mean that I stop thinking.’

‘I know it doesn’t. Spock, Sulu’s taking the shuttle out tomorrow to the patch of sea where we came through, to take scans and water samples. I want you to go with him and direct affairs, if the doc lets you. You’d know better what to look for, and you shouldn’t tire yourself if you stay in the shuttle.’

‘I would welcome that opportunity,’ Spock agreed. ‘Samples need to be taken, and while Sulu is a competent officer, he is not a scientist.’

‘For now – there’s a chess set inside,’ Kirk told him. ‘If you’d like to try a game? I think I can take being beaten one more time.’

‘A game would be pleasant, Jim, if we have time before lunch. Suran agreed to help me with my article this afternoon. It seems rather ironic that I cannot read any of the pages I wrote last night, but he will read it into the computer for me so that I may alter it as I wish.’

‘I can see your mind hasn’t stopped working,’ Kirk grinned. ‘We better get that chess game started, before you burn yourself out on science projects. I’ll bring the set out here, so you can sit in the sun.’

‘I don’t think there’s a table out here, Jim.’

‘Then I’ll bring one of those too,’ he said. ‘And afterwards I’ll see if I can attach some kind of symbols to the playing cards that you can feel.’

He disappeared into the house, happy that Spock was beginning to settle back into a more ordinary routine after all the turmoil of the last weeks. Although he saw much less of his friend when Spock was buried in science projects, it was the way it should be.


	19. Chapter 19

Scott got up out of the captain’s chair and wandered nearer the screen. They had obtained orbit around Vulcan, and now the planet revolved slowly below them, its orange desert colours almost painfully bright to the eyes. There were a few greener patches of cooler forest and grass, but the seas looked frightening – a strange dark orange colour, like some kind of witch’s potion, flecked with sparse swirls of white cloud. Scott knew it was only the sky reflecting in the oceans that gave them their colour, but all his instincts told him water should be blue, not this deep, unnatural copper.

The intercom whistled behind him and Scott reseated himself to press the button.

‘Scott here.’

‘Transporter room,’ came an English voice, slightly distorted through the system. ‘The ambassador and his party have just beamed down, sir.’

‘Thank you, Lieutenant Kyle,’ Scott responded.

‘They left some discs for Commander Spock, sir – they asked me to put them into your care.’

‘I’ll come and get them later, laddie,’ Scott promised. ‘I’ll make sure Mr Spock gets them when he comes back. Scott out.’ He turned to the screen again. ‘Hunter. Take us out of orbit.’

The helmsman looked around, then nodded. ‘Aye, aye, sir.’

‘Warp one and increase slowly. We have the time to take it easy. May as well take a cruise instead of straining my poor engines.’

The ship moved slowly away from the hot red planet, and Scott patted the arm of his chair affectionately, settling back in the seat for a relaxing cruise back to Zozma.

 

Spock sat by the window in the long dormitory, considering his situation as he translated a string of mathematical formulae into music as an exercise for his mind. It was a welcome change to be off the ship, but sometimes it felt that all of the wilderness outside was more limiting than the smooth, curving, enclosed corridors of the  _Enterprise_ . It was frustrating to be surrounded by opportunity for study, but to not know how to study it.

He could faintly hear wind in the trees outside through the almost sound-proof glass, and noises of voices, but it was all drowned out as he picked out another string of notes on his Vulcan lyre. He felt a kind of satisfaction as he blocked out the tantalising sound of things he couldn’t see. The beginnings of another aimless composition was rudely interrupted by footsteps clattering noisily upstairs at a jog and coming into the room.

‘Good afternoon, Dr McCoy,’ he said without turning. It was useless to repeat his desire to be left alone, or to try to understand the human custom of exhausting energy in a time put aside for rest.

‘Spock.’ The footsteps moved closer, slowly. The doctor was coming to ask something and he wasn’t hopeful of a positive answer. ‘Nice tune,’ McCoy said with a smile.

Spock took his lyre over to the bed to replace it in his case, and sat down. ‘It was merely an improvisation, but thank you... Doctor, you may as well simply ask what you wanted to,’ he said after a long pause. ‘I can easily say no.’

‘Jim’s dragging us all out on another of those walks. He wanted to know if you were coming?’

‘I would rather not, thank you.’ He turned to unpack the lyre again, but McCoy put his hand out to stop him.

‘You really should come,’ he pressed. ‘You’ve been holed up in this building like a hermit since we got here. You’ve only been out once or twice. You need to build up some strength after so long in bed.’

‘Doctor, I have given you my answer. Now you can leave me alone,’ Spock tried calmly. He didn’t want an argument.

‘I know you, Spock,’ McCoy pressed in a Southern drawl, trying to sound relaxed. ‘You need to be active, you need a purpose, and you’re not active. You’re sitting up here twanging that lyre and not doing a damn thing. Spock, tell me what’s going on in that Vulcan mind. You’re not normally like this.’

Spock had to consciously stop himself from snapping his head up to stare at the doctor incredulously. He could be so frustrating sometimes. ‘Have you forgotten the last two months?’ he asked sharply. ‘Nothing is normal any more... I want to be left alone,’ he added in a flat voice.

‘I know,’ McCoy told him gently. ‘But I wouldn’t be helping you if I left you alone. A walk really will be good for you. Now, I can make that a medical prescription, and order you to carry it out.’

‘I am on leave.’ Spock stood up abruptly, and went back to the window, afraid that his expression was slipping into something emotional. ‘Doctor, you are wasting your own time. You will be left behind if you do not go downstairs.’

‘I’m not going without you, Spock,’ McCoy said firmly, following him over. ‘I know you like walking, I know you like being outside with nature, and I know that you’ve been studying the scientists’ research on the environment here. That’s why you’re going to come out into the countryside you’ve been studying so hard.’

‘Will you explain to me how I can study land I cannot see?’ Spock asked with exasperation.

‘When you’re there, you’ll find a way to study it,’ McCoy promised. ‘You’re good at finding a way. Come on, Spock.’

‘No, Doctor,’ he said with stony obstinacy.

‘Do you want me to get one of the Vulcans up here?’ McCoy threatened, trying to make it sound casual. ‘T’Yian could persuade you of the logic of getting out.’

‘No, Doctor,’ Spock said sharply, his voice bordering on desperate anger. ‘You are not to bring any of them up here. There is no point,’ he added more calmly. ‘I have given you my answer, and I shall not change it.’

‘Spock, it’s a beautiful day.’

The Vulcan turned around, his face composed back to the normal impassivity, but McCoy could still see the distress underneath. ‘You forget that beauty is irrelevant to me now.’

McCoy sighed silently. ‘Don’t you think it smells nice?’ he tried again. ‘All the fresh air?’

‘Please, don’t,’ Spock said flatly. ‘Just don’t patronise me, Doctor.’

‘I wasn’t patronising you. I was trying to create civilised conversation. Spock, I’m not asking you to go out alone on a grade one assault course – I’m just asking you to come for a gentle walk. I know this is hard, but you have to try to adjust.’

‘Try,’ he echoed, turning away again.

It was all he ever seemed to do. It seemed impossible to function around other people any more, but they wouldn’t stop urging him to try, and watching him fail as he fumbled about with hands that had no eyes to guide them.

‘I shall come, Doctor,’ he said finally. ‘I shall come out with people who can feel only pity for me, and try to study these plants that only have form and scent, and try to walk over ground that pits and rucks up under my feet with no warning, and if I fail, when I return you will have the goodness to supply me with a suitable dose of your excellent anaesthetic, and you will let me die.’

He tried to deliver his request in as reasonable a tone as possible, but he could hear McCoy’s breathing change oddly.

‘Spock – ’ McCoy’s hand touched his arm softly, then gripped it and made him turn around. ‘Spock, you don’t want to die.’

‘Death is far preferable to madness, Doctor.’

‘You’re not mad, Spock, you’re just – ’

‘I am blind,’ Spock said. He thought he said that calmly, but his voice seemed to break at the same moment that his knees lost their strength. McCoy led him back to his bed, and he sat with a bump onto the mattress, with McCoy’s hand constantly touching his shoulder. ‘That is not acceptable in the Vulcan ethos, and I cannot live this way. The only alternative is to die.’

‘Spock, I know you feel terrible at the moment,’ McCoy said, sitting down by him. ‘But suicide isn’t the answer.’

‘You told me I need purpose. My purpose is science, a discipline with which sight is inextricably linked. There is little point in my existence if I cannot carry out that purpose – therefore I ask that you let me die. I have given the problem a good deal of consideration.’

McCoy sighed, wishing he had come up earlier. He hadn’t realised that Spock had been sitting up here all morning weighing up his life. It would be easier to deal with this if he was sobbing and screaming, but Spock’s calm rationality was chilling.

‘How long have you been thinking like this?’ he asked.

‘You know that after the accident I wished to die. Then the shock calmed, and I began to view my situation with more detachment. Then as I gained more strength, and began to do more than simply sleep and wake, I was forced to face the real consequences of this accident. Those consequences are not acceptable. I would prefer to die before I am totally consumed in this cycle of depression.’

‘Spock, you won’t be consumed – _you will adjust_ ,’ McCoy promised.

Spock closed his eyes, an almost invisible shudder running through his body. ‘Doctor, you do not know what it is like to have everything visual taken from your life, and to have to live day after day knowing it will never change.’

‘No, I don’t,’ McCoy agreed. ‘But I know it will get better, if you give yourself a chance, if you go to the rehabilitation school and visit a Vulcan Healer, and learn from them how to do all the things you think you can’t. Spock, remember – remember T’Celin,’ he said, wishing _he_ could remember everything about the noted Vulcan scientist.

‘She invented the modern Vulcan touch language,’ Spock nodded. ‘She was the first person to understand the problem of an infinite universe. She pioneered the latest and most likely theory about the big bang.’

‘She was thirty when she lost her sight, and how many of her new breakthroughs were made after losing it?’

‘Seventy nine point eight two nine percent,’ Spock said automatically.

‘She came aboard the _Enterprise_ once, didn’t she?’

‘Yes, two years ago. She used my science station to show me her theories.’

‘Alone, unaided, independent and firing on all cylinders. She was happy – as a Vulcan can be.’

‘She can see light, and colour.’

‘Spock, she was blind, but she was also bright and alert – she was just normal, leading a normal life, with normal friends and a good job. You managed to perform all the necessary tests when you went out with Sulu yesterday in the shuttle, even if you didn’t find anything. You can study science, and you can be independent. You haven’t even been on the rehab course yet – you might even get a guide dog.’

‘A guide dog on the _Enterprise_ would hardly be practical,’ Spock began. ‘There would be problems of exercise, of the stress of space travel, of – waste disposal.’

‘They could all be overcome,’ McCoy said. ‘You know, I think Scotty will have finished that scanner by the time we get back, so you can read text. He’s making you a ‘wee box o’tricks’ – portable kit of tools that’ll help you.’

‘That sounds fascinating,’ Spock told him.

‘Mr Spock, will you promise me that you won’t try to kill yourself?’ McCoy asked softly.

‘You have given me other options. Until I explore those options, I give my word,’ the Vulcan relied tonelessly.

McCoy looked into Spock’s face, wondering how he could ever tell just how Spock was feeling now there was nothing in his eyes, not even the bland logic. At least he knew Spock didn’t break his word – if he was going to do that, he would have thought of some other way to word the statement.

‘Thank you,’ McCoy said softly.

‘How about coming for that walk now?’ the doctor suggested with a smile. ‘Jim thought we could go up to some of the prairie land. It’s all green grass, fresh air and sweet smelling flowers. We’ll turn back as soon as you want to.’

Spock weighed the two evils carefully in his mind. The doctor wouldn’t stop badgering him until he agreed to come, and he would never get the solitude he wanted. He would just sit here while the doctor provoked him further and further into emotionalism. It was easiest to simply come, and satisfy the doctor’s gregarious impulses.

‘You may tell Jim I’ll come,’ he said.

‘Good. You may as well come down now. We’re about to go.’ He handed Spock his cane and they went back down the stairs. ‘What were you doing at the window?’ he asked as they turned into one of the narrow rooms off the corridor.

‘Playing my lyre. Was that not obvious?’

‘Yes. I just thought – ’

‘I like to feel warmth on my face, even if I cannot see the light. I can feel that it’s day time.’

‘I am glad you know what it looks like,’ the doctor said quickly, then turned away. ‘I’ll go tell Jim you’re coming.’

‘What is this room, Doctor?’

‘It’s the computer room.’

‘I shall wait here, then,’ he said, walking towards the door to outside and opening it.

‘I’ve got to get my shoes, and speak to Christine, but I’ll send Jim to you.’

‘Thank you.’ He stood for a moment facing the open door. ‘It does seem like a fine day. I shall not pretend I suddenly feel carefree and happy, Doctor, but you are right that a walk may at least take my mind temporarily away from the pain.’

‘I’m glad you’re coming, then,’ McCoy smiled. He walked out of the door, and almost bumped into Kirk in the hallway.

‘Sorry, Bones,’ Kirk said, moving to pass him. McCoy put an arm out to stop him.

‘Hang on, Jim – Spock’s coming.’

Kirk’s face lit up. ‘You persuaded him? I thought it’d be impossible.’

‘I practically had to blackmail him. But I left him in there.’ He thumbed back at the other room. ‘Why don’t you go see him? He’s feeling quite down – or up and down – it’s hard to know from one moment to the next, but I think he needs you. Jim?’ he asked, as Kirk glanced hesitantly at the door.

‘I just never know how to treat him, to talk to him. I want to be normal, but – ’

‘I know. I still don’t know what to say either. I don’t know whether to shout at him, or be gentle. I feel bad whichever I do.’

‘I would rather you treat me with the disrespect and hostility you used to reserve for me.’ Spock was standing in the doorway, listening to their conversation.

‘You know I never mean that,’ McCoy said guiltily.

‘And you would never have admitted that two months ago. I have enough disruption in my life without my friends becoming strangers.’ He turned towards Kirk. ‘Captain, shall we go outside?’

‘Come on, then,’ Kirk said, touching his hand.

‘I don’t need your arm until we’re outside, Jim,’ Spock said. ‘The floor surface is predictable enough in here.’

McCoy went on into the sitting room. He had been surprised to find the science station so much like a home, but Spock had told him with one eyebrow raised that discomfort hampered efficiency, and it was only logical to make the place as pleasant as possible to work in.

Chapel was sitting in an easy chair in the corner of the room, reading quietly. McCoy walked in and cleared his throat, and she jumped in fright.

‘Dr McCoy! You shouldn’t do that,’ she smiled.

‘Aren’t you coming with us? Mr Spock’s raring to go.’

She put the book down on a table, and flashed a smile at him. ‘I’m glad you persuaded him. I am coming – I was waiting until everyone was ready.’

‘Good book?’

She pulled a wry face. ‘Most of it’s in Vulcan. I was only skimming through the readable bits. But Vulcan is a beautiful language to see written down. It’s just nice to look at.’

‘I wanted to speak to you.’ McCoy beckoned and they wandered towards the front of the house. ‘Spock was nervous about coming out on a long walk – well, personally, I think he was scared stiff. He’s not coping nearly as well as I’d hoped he would. I’d like you to stay with him and keep an eye on him. Keep him reassured, okay?’

‘Yes, Doctor, I will,’ she promised.

‘He’s on a low again. He can’t imagine ever being like he used to be. He thought I was patronising him because I said the air smelt nice.’

‘We all do patronise him sometimes, without meaning to. I’ll try to cheer him up,’ she said soberly.

‘Christine, there’s something else. I shouldn’t interfere, but – I was talking to him before we left _Enterprise_ , about moving back into his rooms. He was very shaken when he realised he’d have to manage without you. You looked pretty close to him that night he was upset.’

‘I was so afraid for him that night. I think all he wanted to do was cry and cry – or die. And he wouldn’t let himself cry and cry. I really was half expecting to find him dead in the morning.’

‘Christine, he desperately needs someone to cling to at the moment. He’s terribly confused, trying to work out just how to cope with all of this. Emotions flooding up when he’s had no proper experience of emotions.’

Chapel stopped still and turned to McCoy. ‘Doctor, I haven’t taken advantage of him being blind and in bed. I’ve tried to treat him like any other patient.’

‘I know that, Christine. Of course you have.’

‘Then what are you trying to say?’ she asked him.

‘I’m saying a, don’t let him get too dependant, and b, don’t mistake dependency for affection. Spock’s Vulcan. Maybe he’s half human, and maybe he seems emotional at the moment, but essentially he’s a Vulcan. Once he’s come to terms with his sight loss, he’ll go back to good old unemotional Spock, and you’ll wonder if any of this insecurity and depression ever happened.’

‘You were right, Doctor,’ she said sharply. ‘You shouldn’t interfere.’ Then she shook her head, taking a deep breath. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped. It’s only I know you’re right. But I do try to make sure he does things for himself – I think sometimes he asks for help just because he’s scared of being alone with his mind. He has this look sometimes when he’s been alone, as if there’s a ghost in the room with him. I will try not too let him get too dependant,’ she promised quietly.

‘Good – because it’s partly being dependant that hurts him so much. Christine, he asked me quite calmly to help him die. He’s promised not to try anything until I can get him to a Vulcan Healer, but we need to treat him carefully. I just hope this walk outside might help lift some of the depression – maybe show him he’s not a leper, and he doesn’t have to depend on us to live.’

He bit his words off as they went through the front door, and saw Spock talking with Kirk on the veranda. He didn’t want either of them to hear that conversation, particularly Jim. He wasn’t sure how he’d react if he heard what Spock had asked him.

 

The planet of Zozma 3 shook. The quake was not violent enough to be felt, but something made the animals nervous. In turn, the nervousness made them irritable and angry. The alien was trying to pull away from this dimension, teasing the cube slowly at first, hoping it would not create too much disturbance on this beautiful sphere that was home to so many strange beings. But the waves in the seas were already rising, and there was a feeling of tension throughout the small world. Then an ancient, gnarled tree fell for no apparent reason. The roof of a cave suddenly splintered into dust and fragments of rock.

The alien was monitoring all this on a brightly lit sensor panel, but nothing could be done. If her dimension was drawn into this foreign one it could end all space and time. The calling for her to return home was becoming stronger now. The rulers had seen her reports and knew how urgent the situation was. The dimensions must not be allowed to merge further. She tried again to prise the cube from the planet, trying a little harder each time, watching in dismay as more destruction was caused. But the orders were clear. The planet was expendable. It could be injured, or destroyed if necessary, as long as the two places were separated.

 

Kirk drew in lungs-full of sweet, fresh air, scented with flowers and warm growing grass. He stood on top of a slightly heavier swell, surveying the land ahead, with its strange curving horizon. The grass was waist deep in some places, threaded with delicate, colourful flowers. In the distance a lake glittered in the bright sun, a thousand pools of marshy water spreading out around it. This reminded him of the beautiful prairies on his home Earth, and he sighed with a happiness that felt painfully sad.

He had stopped reluctantly, hearing the plaintive cries of the others behind him, and stood waiting for Spock to catch up, wishing almost as hard as the Vulcan was that his science officer could see the beautiful prairie laid out before them. He turned regretfully from the temptation of another pocket of tall grasses, and searched for an easier way for Spock.

‘Mr Spock, how are you doing?’ he asked with a breathless smile, as his science officer reached the top of the hill. He was glad to see he was hardly touching Chapel’s arm now, just holding it lightly for guidance. As he let go she moved away, letting them talk alone.

‘Tolerably well, Captain,’ Spock said. ‘McCoy was right to make me come. It is a fascinating place, with remarkable diversity.’

Kirk studied the Vulcan’s face carefully. His unemotional mask seemed more relaxed than it had been, although he could see the signs of tiredness that Spock could hide so well.

‘You should walk along with me a while,’ he suggested. ‘I’ve been boning up on the details about this place.’

‘I would like that, Captain,’ Spock nodded, and Kirk smiled, remembering how quiet and genuinely nervous Spock had seemed as he started out on the walk, holding his arm in a grip that was nearly bruising. ‘This place merits further study, and I shall need seeing eyes.’

‘Told you you could study it.’ McCoy had struggled to the top of the hill and stood bent half double, resting his hands on his knees and panting. ‘Jim,’ he pleaded. ‘Can’t you dampen the enthusiasm a little – for us poor humans’ sake if not for Spock’s?’

‘I think you need to put everyone on an exercise programme, Bones,’ Kirk grinned. ‘We’ve hardly come any distance.’

‘Half of it was up these slopes, though. We’ve come further than Spock did, taking all those diversions you insisted on while he came in a nice straight line.’

‘I regret my progress was so slow that you had to compensate,’ Spock said softly.

‘We came out for you,’ Kirk told him. ‘You weren’t holding anyone up. Do you want to stop for a minute?’

‘I do need to rest,’ Spock admitted unexpectedly, and as if to prove it he sat down on the grass.

‘Good,’ McCoy said sternly. The doctor turned around as Uhura and Sulu struggled up to the top of the slope. ‘You two need a work-out programme – we all do.’

‘You lift weights if you want to – I’m for sunbathing the rest of the day,’ Uhura shrugged, laying back on the grass. She looked sideways at Spock, then said gravely, ‘Mr Spock, you’re tiring us all out.’

‘I hardly believe – ’ Spock began, before he realised she was joking. ‘I shall try to moderate my pace,’ he said, matching her serious tone.

‘Yesterday’s blisters sure are punishing me for trying it again,’ Sulu complained, tugging his boots off and throwing them down with a sigh.

‘Your injuries are not capable of exacting revenge,’ Spock told him pedantically. ‘They have no consciousness.’

‘I’m not so sure, Mr Spock,’ Sulu smiled.

‘Lieutenant, I am quite certain – ’ Spock began.

‘Spock, does it matter?’ McCoy interrupted. He rummaged in his medical satchel and pulled out a vial of blister spray and handed it to Sulu.

‘Thanks, Doc,’ Sulu smiled as he sprayed on the cooling liquid. ‘I should’ve taken you last time.’

‘If you’d taken me last time I’d have learned my damned lesson and stayed back at the house today,’ McCoy replied shortly. ‘I don’t know why I let Jim talk me into this.’

‘You informed me that it would be good for my health,’ Spock pointed out. ‘In that case it must also be good for you.’

‘It may be good for me, Spock,’ McCoy agreed. ‘But it’s likely to kill me before it makes me fit.’ The doctor flopped back onto the ground in exaggerated exhaustion. ‘I think I’m dying.’

‘You are not anywhere near death,’ Spock retorted. ‘Doctor, all that ever comes out of your mouth is a constant stream of illogical babble.’

‘Spock, Bones,’ Kirk pleaded, sitting down between them. ‘Break it up, both of you. This is a gentle walk, not a war.’

As Spock opened his mouth again, Uhura stood up, coming round to the Vulcan. ‘Mr Spock, do you want to know what this place looks like?’ she asked diplomatically.

‘I would welcome a description.’

Spock felt the slight shaking of the ground again, but he dismissed it as he had before.

‘It is lovely.’

‘I know nothing about the ‘loveliness’, but I have detected the distinct scents of two hundred fifty-three different types of flora in the immediate vicinity. A study would be interesting.’

‘Have the scientists catalogued them?’ she asked as Spock stood up.

‘It is difficult to tell – the scents were not listed in detail – I shall have to study the notes when we return.’

He turned his head slowly to take in the prairie as if he was seeing, but she could see his nostrils twitching as he identified each different scent of the grasses and flowers around him. Then there was concentration on his face, and a sharp turn of his head to point his ear toward the far off cry of an animal.

‘There’s an odd kind of bright blue flower just a few metres away,’ she told him. ‘Would you like to – ’

He nodded, then hesitated, and asked, ‘May I – ,’ holding out his hand.

‘You don’t need to ask to take my arm, Mr Spock,’ Uhura assured him, then added, ‘Personal contact doesn’t offend humans as it does Vulcans.’

‘Yes, I have noticed that,’ he said, taking hold of her slim arm. Even after the reassurance, it was slightly disconcerting to feel her bare flesh. ‘You are not wearing your uniform,’ he commented as she led him over to the small plant.

‘No.’ She looked down at the short dress she was wearing. ‘I don’t like to wear a uniform when I’m off duty, Mr Spock.’

‘Would you describe it, Lieutenant?’

‘The dress or the flower?’

Spock inclined his head. ‘Either.’

‘My dress – is a mini-dress, with short sleeves, bright gold-yellow. I’m wearing spiral earrings, and a bronze-coloured pendant on a long chain – it’s shaped like a sun, with an Eminian fire-stone set in the middle – the kind that shimmers when light falls on it.’

She put the pendant in his hand, and he felt over the shape, then let it drop.

‘And the flower?’

She guided his hand down to the blossom, and he knelt to touch it. Uhura smiled to see him kneeling over the specimen, his scientific curiosity obviously aroused. With his back to her, everything suddenly seemed normal again. He snapped one of the blooms off at the base, and stood up, his nose wrinkling as he sniffed it.

‘Musty – rather odd smelling. The soil was quite damp and fine. There seemed to be only grass and moss growing in the immediate area.’ He ran a soil-stained finger over the flower. ‘And the appearance?’

Uhura took the stalk from him to turn it over in her hand. ‘Clusters of flowers on one long, dark green stalk. It looks as if it’s holding a lot of water. All the flowers are elongated, hanging down, like bluebells but more delicate. They’re coloured like your uniform – maybe a little more intense – with thin ridges running down to the tips – I think the ridges strengthen the petals, giving them shape.’

‘The soil was quite disturbed, if I’m not mistaken.’

‘The ground does look rucked up around here – some of it’s fresh, as if something’s been digging. The flowers only seem to be growing where the surface is scarred.’

‘Interesting,’ Spock nodded. He raised his voice slightly. ‘Mr Sulu?’

Sulu immediately got to his feet and came over. ‘Yes, Mr Spock?’

‘Did you bring a sample container?’

‘Yes, sir,’ he said, holding it up. ‘I have it here.’

‘This plant may make an interesting addition to your botanical collection.’

Sulu smiled, taking the flower and dropping it into his satchel. ‘Thank you, sir. I hadn’t seen them – I can cross reference it with the lab archives when we get back this afternoon.’

‘I shall join you in that,’ Spock decided. ‘I understand there are many detailed diagrams, and I could do with someone to describe the pictures for me.’

‘Yes, sir,’ Sulu smiled. He looked around, and quickly spotted another flower he hadn’t seen. ‘I’d better go get a sample of that one,’ he apologised, moving off.

‘Sir, are you tired?’ Uhura asked, as Spock suddenly seemed to sag a little.

He straightened himself quickly, but McCoy had been watching him, and had already seen it.

‘I am fine,’ Spock said. ‘Lieutenant, you offered to describe the view. Would you oblige?’

‘Of course. It’s beautiful, sir. We’re standing on a high swell, with steep sides all around. The prairie keeps swelling, there’s grass as far as you can see, moving gently in the wind. It’s mostly yellows and light greens, some darker patches where it’s damp. And the lake in the sun...

‘There is a lake?’

‘Right in the distance. I think I can see some kind of water birds swimming on it. There are some trees, spread out – short, wind-blown ones, and sheer rocks pushing up through the grass, as if they came through like a knife after the prairie was formed.’

‘Would you inject more science into it?’ Spock asked after a polite interval. ‘More relevant detail.’

‘Beauty is relevant, Mr Spock – it’s generally what a person sees before they study something,’ Uhura told him. ‘I will describe the topography, but you can’t get a real impression of the land without a little emotional explanation... Do you need to sit down, sir?’ she asked after a pause.

‘I am quite fine.’

‘All right, Mr Spock,’ she nodded, wondering if he knew how heavily he was leaning on her.

McCoy stopped watching the Vulcan, and went back to Kirk’s side. ‘Jim, we better turn back soon,’ he said quietly. ‘Spock’s going to need a sleep – he’s on his last legs.’

‘We can turn back now,’ Kirk offered. ‘We’ve come a good mile – and I guess that’s a long way for Spock to have come. I was going to go on to the lake, but – ’

‘It’s too far. And it wouldn’t be a good idea taking him through that marshy ground. I promised we wouldn’t go anywhere difficult, and he’s really tired. I might call the station and ask them to send the shuttle out if he gets worse. You could go on if you want, though. I can take charge of the rest of us.’

‘No. We’ll stay together. Anyway,’ Kirk peered upwards at heavy clouds gathering. ‘I don’t like the look of that sky.’ He clapped his hands to gain attention. ‘Okay. We’re going to turn back now.’

‘Thank God,’ McCoy muttered under his breath. ‘We were all getting tired, Jim,’ he excused himself, when he caught Kirk’s expression. ‘Spock.’ He went to the Vulcan. ‘Uhura, you better go get Sulu. Spock, we’re turning back.’

‘I heard the captain, Doctor,’ Spock said mildly, as Uhura went to fetch Sulu from his specimen hunting. Sometimes it seemed that the humans forgot it was only the visual he was unaware of.

‘Well. Come on.’ McCoy pulled at his arm, but he may as well have tried to move one of the great lone trees which grew on this prairie.

‘Wait.’ Spock stood stiffly, like an animal alert for danger, listening hard.

‘What is it? What can you hear?’ the doctor asked, scanning the land around him briefly with his eyes.

‘Captain?’ Spock called. ‘Where are you?’ He reached out with his hand and Kirk touched it.

‘What, Spock?’

‘I hear noise – a strange noise. I suggest we all stand very still.’

‘What noise?’ Kirk listened carefully, but all he heard was the whispering of wind in the grass, and a few far away bird calls. ‘There’s nothing there, Spock.’

‘Jim!’ Spock caught his arm as he tried to move away. ‘There is something there.’

‘Spock, there is nothing,’ Kirk said firmly, impatient to turn back now, before the weather broke. ‘You’re being paranoid, and I think I trust my eyes more than your ears, Vulcan or not.’

‘Captain, I know I have had fears, nightmares, but I am not about to alarm the whole party on an unfounded feeling,’ Spock said in exasperation. ‘I am sure that the danger is not visible to you, but I would hear it whether I had sight or not. Do not treat me like a child.’

He felt the trembling again under his feet. For an instant he smelt a strong scent of dead meat and earth, then it was gone on the wind.

‘Spock, you’re tired, and we have to get back now,’ Kirk said, quite sure that it was just Spock’s hyper-sensitivity – some ordinary noise like grasses rubbing together, or tree branches creaking in the distance. He began to walk away briskly, leaving Spock behind alone. Chapel went to his side quickly, watching his face.

‘Mr Spock?’ she asked, glancing around as the rest of the party got further away. ‘Are you coming?’

‘If I am to be first officer to the captain, he must trust my judgement – my judgement without my sight,’ Spock began. ‘If he will not listen to my advice...’

‘He needs time to see that you still can be just as good as you used to be,’ Chapel reminded him. ‘Mr Spock, what is it you can hear?’ she asked curiously.

‘I cannot be sure – that is why we must not move. I heard something, I smelt something, and I feel something. Where are the others?’

‘Down at the bottom of the hill – they’re getting further away. We should go and – ’

‘Do not move!’ Spock ordered again. ‘There is an animal there. We are the focus of its attention.’

The nurse looked around slowly, but she couldn’t see anything. A pocket of tall grasses further down the other side of the hill caught her eye instead.

‘Mr Spock, there’s a dip down to the left,’ she told him. ‘It’s good cover. Maybe we should go down there if there’s something around.’ She began to move towards it, and Spock reached out after her, shouting;

‘Miss Chapel, come back!’

Then he heard her scream. Christine Chapel saw a dark black streak of speed hurtling towards her as if it had appeared from the ground. She stood transfixed by shock for a second, focusing on the animal’s long white fangs and gaping red mouth as it sped nearer. Then her brain managed to tell her legs to move, and she lurched sideways. Even as she raced through the grass, the muscular black animal was almost on her.


	20. Chapter 20

Abruptly the racing black blur was hurled aside by an equally fast blue one, and she realised that Spock had thrown himself at the noise of pounding paws, and had found his target. Now he was wrestling on the ground with an animal half his size but equally strong, with all the ferocity of ten wild-cats. The cat filled the air with ear piercing yowls and Spock grimaced as it sank its teeth into his hand. Chapel turned in her path and ran back towards the cat. Suddenly helping Spock seemed far more important than running for her own life.

She caught hold of the great cat’s tail as she reached it, pulling, twisting at it, screaming – anything to distract the creature from the Vulcan. It turned its black head, ears flattened, and snarled at her viciously, showing fierce white teeth with green blood on them. The sight sent shivers down her spine, but she kept kicking at the velvet black fur and pulling with all her might, wondering where the hell the rest of the party had got to. She could hear shouts on the edge of her field of attention, and she realised that they must have heard her scream, and be running back to find out what had happened. There was another shout, closer, and she suddenly realised it was Spock, shouting, ‘The shoulder?’

She suddenly understood his meaning, and pressed her hand onto his uninjured one, guiding it to the writhing animal’s shoulder, and then helping him apply the pressure he needed. The cat shook its head a little, and growled, but the nerve pinch hardly affected the creature. Spock kept squeezing, harder and harder, with Chapel’s hand pressing down over his fingers, until finally the animal sighed and flopped back onto the ground. Spock felt for the human beside him and grabbed hold of her, staggering away from the unconscious cat. As soon as they were a safe distance away he sank back to the ground, panting heavily.

‘Are you hurt?’ he asked quickly, trying to feel over her face for blood or gashes. It was hard to tell with blood on his own hands.

‘No. But you are,’ Chapel replied, seeing blood trickling down his face and arms. His blue top had been slashed to ribbons by the sharp claws, showing deep scratches underneath.

‘Not badly. I told you not to move, Lieutenant,’ Spock said sharply. ‘Your life was in grave danger. You disobeyed my order.’

Chapel faltered at his sudden change, at him speaking to her as her commander, not as her patient. Then she reminded herself that he  _was_ her patient.

‘Mr Spock, I didn’t realise you had the right to give me orders while we’re both off duty and you’re on sick leave,’ she said sharply. ‘I saw that dip and I thought we would be safer there.’ She broke off, glad that he couldn’t see how much she was shaking.

‘Sometimes I think sight is more of a hindrance than an advantage,’ Spock said, trying to conceal his relief that she was safe. ‘The creature is not dead?’

‘No – I can see it breathing. I – I didn’t expect cat-like animals out here.’

‘It was a ground panther. You must remember me telling you about them. They see movement with more ease than still objects. That is what I could hear and smell. It must have singled me out as the weakest in the group, then you moved. It seemed agitated, very nervous. Your movement provoked it.’

‘I know I shouldn’t have left you,’ she admitted. ‘I’m sorry, Mr Spock. I really am.’

She took a deep breath to stop her voice trembling with the shock and relief, then looked over her shoulder nervously as footsteps thudded down behind her. Kirk reached her panting, fixing his communicator back to his belt.

‘Are you hurt, Nurse?’ he asked. ‘I can’t see any red blood. Spock?’

‘Mr Spock’s hurt,’ Chapel answered for the Vulcan. ‘I’m okay.’

Kirk looked back up the hill as the rest of the party came over the crest. He put his hands on her shoulders to help her stand up.

‘Go up and wait with the others,’ he told her. ‘I called the station for the shuttlecraft.’

Chapel nodded silently, then remembered to say, ‘Yes, sir.’

As she began to walk up the slope she realised she was shaking so much she could hardly stand up. Lieutenant Uhura met her halfway up the hill and helped her to walk to Sulu at the top. McCoy passed them, sliding his way hurriedly down the slope. As he reached the Vulcan he knelt down and took his medical kit from his shoulder. Spock was sitting slumped on the grass, supporting one hand painfully in the other.

‘How bad are the lacerations?’ he asked, hearing the whining of McCoy’s scanner. He could feel blood running down his chest, and the soreness of the wounds, but it was hard to tell how superficial they were.

‘Quite deep, but not too bad. You’ve been bitten, there’s a few small bones broken in your hand,’ McCoy told the Vulcan, spraying antiseptic on the bleeding wounds. ‘The cuts’ll smart, but they won’t kill you. I’ll quiz Suran on any shots you need when we get back. It’s amazing you got away with so little, wrestling with an overgrown house cat like that. It could have ripped your throat out.’

‘You should tranquillise it. I don’t know how long the nerve pinch will be effective.’

‘I already have done,’ McCoy reassured him. ‘I’ll just bandage your hand to immobilise it.’

He carefully lifted Spock’s bitten hand to cover it in the quick setting foam bandage.

‘Doctor,’ Spock said quickly, then said a little more quietly, ‘Don’t cover my fingers – at least not the tips.’

‘I won’t,’ McCoy promised. ‘But I’ll get out the bone-knitter as soon as we get back and heal those breaks – it won’t be bandaged for long.’

‘Spock.’ Kirk sat down beside his first officer. ‘Nurse Chapel’s okay – she’s not hurt.’

‘I ascertained that myself,’ Spock nodded.

Kirk paused, then said apologetically, ‘I should have believed you when you said you heard something. I’m sorry.’

Spock shook his head slowly. It ached from the sudden excitement.

‘Apology is unnecessary, Jim. You trust sight above any other sense, while I have learnt to manage without it. It must be difficult for you to understand.’

McCoy put an arm around Spock’s back to hold him up as a look of exhaustion flitted over his face, and his skin paled a shade. He needed to get back to a bed, to sleep off the day’s exertion.

‘Spock, how did you know what it was?’ Kirk asked. ‘You couldn’t have known just from the noise.’

He shook his head. ‘I didn’t. I should have realised what the disturbed soil meant, but I simply did not think. I heard and smelt it, then I heard it running, but I still was not sure what it was. I found out when I made contact with it, felt it...’

He closed his eyes suddenly, and McCoy let him rest back onto the grass.

‘Just lie still and rest,’ McCoy told him firmly. ‘Get your breath back.’

He lay silently for a minute, then he said slowly, ‘I cannot live this way.’

‘Spock, you’re tired – ’ Kirk began.

‘Yes, I am, but that doesn’t mean I am not rational. I cannot live this way. The panther – I should have been able to see it.’

The doctor and Kirk exchanged glances. There didn’t seem to be an answer for that. Then the captain said gently, ‘Spock, you were the only one that heard it.’

‘I would have heard it anyway. Being blind is no asset.’ He touched a patch of mud on his face. ‘I fell over twice as I ran. I hit a rock. If I could see, I would have recognised the signs of its digging. And it is a fact that if I could see you would have believed me.’

‘Maybe I would have,’ Kirk admitted guiltily. ‘But that’s my fault, not yours, Spock. I should trust your word no matter what.’

He smiled at the Vulcan, but he seemed to be absorbed with the deep concentration only he could attain, a state that almost looked like a trance.

‘Spock?’ Kirk asked, then a little more sharply, ‘Commander Spock!’

Spock pressed a palm to the ground and held it there for a long moment, frowning. Then he relaxed his arm and folded it back over his stomach.

‘Sir, I thought I felt the earth trembling – I felt the same thing earlier. I could hear a low rumbling – a sound far below your range of hearing. But there should be no tectonic disturbances in this area. I know that little is known about this planet, but there are no fault lines here, and the continental plate should be stable.’

‘It was probably the animal, Spock,’ Kirk reassured him.

‘The animal is unconscious. I should have taken a tricorder with me. I don’t know how I forgot to.’ He sounded annoyed.

‘We were just going for a walk, not for a survey mission. You haven’t been on a scientific mission for months. Spock, it’s probably just burrowing animals. I wouldn’t worry about it – not at the moment.’

‘I’ll second that,’ McCoy said firmly. ‘You should be resting, Spock. You’ve just had a sudden shock and a sudden burst of physical exertion. In your condition, it’ll take a lot more out of you than if you were healthy. Just relax, or I’ll give you a shot of that tranquilliser too.’

‘I can feel the earth vibrating now, Doctor.’

‘I can’t feel it, and neither can Jim.’ He smiled, and put a hand to Spock’s arm. ‘Spock, you’re shaking. The earth’s perfectly still, I promise you. All that’s happened is you’re tired and you’re shaking. We’re not about to have an earthquake.’

‘Captain – ’ Spock appealed.

‘Mr Spock, you’re shaking from head to foot,’ Kirk told him. ‘I’ll make sure someone checks it out, just in case, but after we’ve got you back to the house so you can rest. You need a sleep.’

Spock turned his face towards a noise of engines. ‘Is that a shuttlecraft?’

Kirk looked around to see the station’s large shuttlecraft coming down to land. ‘Yes, it’s the Palomar – I called the station and asked someone to come pick us up. I said as fast as they could. I didn’t know they’d take it absolutely literally. They must’ve come at top speed all the way.’

‘Let’s get Spock in there,’ McCoy urged him. ‘It’s getting chilly. He could do with somewhere warm to sit.’

‘Mmm.’ Kirk rubbed his head as he felt a spatter of water. ‘It’s really clouding over. Starting to rain too. Mr Spock, can you walk?’

‘Yes, sir, with your help.’

Kirk lifted Spock to his feet and helped him gently forward. The Vulcan locked his hand onto Kirk’s arm, stopping him for a moment.

‘Jim?’ he asked.

‘Yes, Spock?’

‘What can you see?’

Kirk looked around slowly. ‘Just the panther on the grass, and the Palomar landing,’ he said quietly. ‘It’s just like the Galileo, only a little bigger. We better get up there.’

Kirk hurried Spock to the shuttlecraft and helped him up the steps and through the low doorway. Suran sat in the pilot’s seat, looking around anxiously at the Vulcan. McCoy took Spock to in a seat in the back and wrapped a blanket around his shoulders. Chapel sat near the front with her arms folded around her body, still shaking. The doctor clambered out from beside Spock and went to her quickly. He put a hand on her shoulder and she looked up at him.

‘Are you okay?’ he asked her quietly. ‘Try to relax a little, Christine.’

‘I’m all right,’ she said, relaxing back into her seat. ‘I’m only a little shaken. Is Mr Spock – ?’

‘He has a few scratches and his hand’s bitten. That’s all.’

‘I shouldn’t have moved.’

‘Don’t you worry about that now,’ McCoy said kindly. ‘Just relax yourself and keep warm. Maybe you could say something to Spock? It all happened so fast. I guess he’d like some kind of description – you know he’ll want to know everything about where the thing came from and what it looked like.’

‘I know,’ she smiled, and got up to slip into the chair by Spock as the shuttle began to spiral slowly up into the sky. McCoy watched with satisfaction. She had stopped thinking about the fright she had had as soon as he had asked her to look after the Vulcan. Uhura glanced back to see they were all right, then turned her head to a viewscreen to see the green prairie shrinking beneath them.

The small, lonely black shape of the panther twisted and dwindled smaller as the craft gained altitude. As soon as the course was set in, Suran turned and went up to the back of the craft, where Spock was resting in his chair with Nurse Chapel beside him.

‘You found a ground panther,’ Suran said, as more of a statement than a question.

‘Rather, it found us,’ Spock nodded.

‘I see.’ The Vulcan pretended to ignore Spock’s pale face, and his uninjured hand which, not hidden by bandages, seemed to be shaking slightly. ‘I have not encountered one of these animals on any of my missions here. They hide themselves well. Maybe you would make a report for our studies?’

‘As soon as we return. It was an interesting experience. The creature has strength which far exceeds its size. The nerve pinch was virtually ineffective at first.’

‘And you, Miss Chapel.’ Suran turned his gaze to the nurse. ‘You actually saw this panther close up.’

‘Yes, and I’ll help Mr Spock make the report,’ she promised with a smile. ‘But not yet. I need a little time.’

‘Of course,’ Suran said sympathetically. ‘It must have been a somewhat disturbing experience.’

‘It was. Very.’

 

The alien viewed her monitors with alarm. They showed the thrashing of seas and lakes all over the planet; heavy rain clouds accumulating over some parts of the small world, snow storms beginning in others. The temperature was beginning to drop, sending tropical animals shivering into dangerous, unstable caves. Her thoughts were frustrated, watching animals and plants die all over the beautiful planet. It wasn’t destruction that she’d wanted – simply to study the life in this strange dimension – if it could be called life. Command had decided now that this type of joining – one dimension to another – was too dangerous to continue with. All studies to be suspended until a new way was found. The alien regretted the ban on continuing studies. She had only just begun in this small galaxy, and found the samples of life from this section interesting, meriting further research. But no more planets must be damaged. They were home to these unusual creatures, and far too valuable for destruction. She understood and obeyed the leaders.

She tried to pull again, harder, and felt the cube moving slightly. It was working, but a whole forest was felled as if in a single sweep an enormous hand had pushed it flat. A wind was rushing over the planet, tearing rocks from the ground and stripping grass from its earth. A tidal wave swallowed a small island as it sank into the sea. And the destruction was slowly rolling towards where those strange, intelligent pink beings were living in their own cube.

 

McCoy sat straight up in bed in a cold sweat, tingling with fear, wondering what had woken him. Spock had involuntarily woken him with a cry a night before, the night after he had wrestled with a panther, but as far as he could tell the Vulcan was fast asleep now. McCoy could feel his body shaking as if he had just had the worst fright of his life. He could feel that something was happening.

‘What the devil – ?’ he began, peering into the grey, early morning light. As he moved, he realised it wasn’t only him shaking. It was the bed, the walls, the whole house.

‘Jim?’ McCoy jumped out of bed and felt the floor tremble under his feet. He put his hands on the top of Kirk’s screen and looked over. The bed was empty, the blankets crumpled on the mattress as if they had been flung aside. The doctor turned to Sulu’s bed on the other side, and was relieved to see this one was occupied. ‘Sulu.’

He pulled back the screen, shaking the still form in the bed. Sulu jerked awake, blinking sleepily.

‘Doc,’ he moaned. ‘It’s hardly morn – ing.’ Sulu opened his eyes sharply, feeling the terrible tremors of the building. ‘Doctor, what’s happening?’

‘Ask whoever controls the weather on this damn planet. Feels like an earthquake. D’you know where Jim is?’

‘I’ve only just woken up. How would I know?’

McCoy spun around at the sound of the door opening and closing. A figure came through, hard to make out in the half-light. The doctor peered closer.

‘Jim!’ he sighed in relief. ‘Where were you?’

‘I went to the head, then it started shaking. Bones, this isn’t a dream, is it?’

‘I hope to God it is, and we all wake up soon, but I don’t think we will.’

‘Is the building safe?’ Sulu had clambered out of bed and was standing by the doctor.

‘More to the point, are we?’ McCoy asked seriously.

‘I should think the Vulcans built it pretty strong,’ Kirk reasoned. ‘They would’ve taken the possibility of natural disasters into account. Are any of the others awake?’

‘I haven’t woken them,’ McCoy shrugged. ‘We may as well let them sleep. No point in scaring them. We better just sit it out.’

‘Hmm,’ Kirk agreed quietly. ‘How about a game of I-spy?’

McCoy gave him a reproachful look. ‘Is that the best you could come up with? I’d rather ask Spock to give me a lecture on the theory and statistics of warp drive.’

‘What’s wrong with I-spy?’

‘Jim, it’s the middle of the night, it’s dark and I’m half asleep.’

‘Speaking for myself, I’d rather read,’ Sulu shrugged apologetically.

Kirk shrugged, then McCoy got back under his own blankets. ‘If it doesn’t get much worse, Jim, we may as well try to sleep through it.’

‘Y-es,’ Kirk agreed slowly. He had a strange feeling that it wouldn’t be that simple. ‘It does seem to be easing off,’ he admitted. He still couldn’t shake that feeling, but he returned to his bed as the tremors subsided and the world outside quietened.

 

Spock let his mind drift up from deep sleep, until he was half awake. Something odd had woken him, and left a nervous sickness in the pit of his stomach. He began to try to sit up, but his body felt numb, like lead, the way it always did now for a few minutes after waking up.

<Miss Chapel.> He revived his mind link with the nurse, and it stirred her from sleep.

<What?> came the sleepy response. <Why are you waking me? It’s not morning.> Then the realisation, <You’re using the link again.>

<Yes.>

<You haven’t for a while.> Still slurred, trying not to be lifted from the comfort of sleep.

<Shh,> Spock said quickly.

<What?>

<Do you hear that rumbling?> Spock turned his ear off his pillow a little more.

<No. I...>

<It is there. I hear it.>

<What is it?>

<I don’t know. A storm. Maybe an earthquake. I think that I felt it earlier, but it didn’t wake me fully. I remember hearing the captain talking about natural disasters, and shaking. I didn’t concentrate... There! Do you hear it now?>

<Nothing. Are you sure you – >

<My ears are sharper than yours.>

<It may not come here.>

<I can feel something in my mind – the crying of terrified minds, becoming stronger – the animals are afraid. Come here.>

<How can you feel their thoughts when you’re not touching them?>

<It is a large group of terrified beings – I don’t need to touch them. This is no time for you to ask for logic and proof. Please come here now. I don’t feel strong enough to get up.>

Chapel clambered out of bed sleepily and stumbled towards Spock’s. The ground trembled beneath her feet and she almost fell.

<Can the house take it?> she asked through her mind, reaching his bed and sliding down onto the floor by it.

<I’ve discussed the effect of such occurrences with the scientists. The walls are reinforced panels of ten inch thick metal, the windows are double-layered transparent aluminium. It should be safe provided the tremors do not grow too strong.>

<What about the others, downstairs?> she remembered, <And they said they were going to observe the night life. Two of them are out there in this!>

<There is nothing we can do.>

<They’ll be killed!>

The words were screamed indignantly in the link, hurting Spock’s mind. Before she could even stand, Spock had realised her intentions, and he grabbed her wrist, holding her firmly even though he was tired.

<There is nothing you can do!> he snapped into her mind. <You won’t find them in the dark. They’ll be safe in the open, away from rocks and trees. They have the wit to know that. We must stay here.>

<Let me go.>

<I won’t let you be killed,> he told her firmly.

‘Let me go!’ she pleaded aloud. ‘We have to help them!’

‘I’m very sorry, but I can’t permit you to get hurt.’

Spock put his hand to her shoulder and squeezed. She gave a small gasp and he lowered her to the ground. Gently he carried her back to her bed and felt in it, to lay her carefully under the blankets. He touched her cheek quickly before turning away.

‘I’m sorry, Christine,’ he murmured, then felt his way back to his bed and lay down tiredly, waiting for the floor to stop its soft shaking so he could sleep again.


	21. Chapter 21

Part 3

Full Circle

21

 

Spock shook his head once more to waken himself, and pulled his quilt up further around his shoulders in a need for protection he didn’t quite understand. The black now was no different from daytime, but it sometimes seemed worse in the deep silence of the early hours. At least in the day time there were people to talk with, problems to occupy the mind. He could hear soft, slow breathing from the other beds, and rain outside, but everything else was silence.

The spattering of rain against the window increased to a tattoo of solid drops being driven against the transparent metal. He closed his eyes, visualising the clear, dark window with water running down it, the drops glinting with reflected light from some kind of imagined lamp that was shining across the room and the beds.

He leaned back into his pillows, keeping the picture in front of him until tears came to his eyes from the straining to see. At least, he thought it was from the straining – he was certainly not crying over the need to see what he was imagining. Crying had no purpose. He was just tired out by the sudden activity after weeks lying in sickbay, his eyes were still sore from the blinding gas explosion.

The room grew slowly and steadily colder around him as the rain thudded down constantly. After some time, Spock heard a noise behind the next screen, and he knew the nurse had come round. He listened closer, and realised his sharp ears were hearing quiet, stifled crying. He wiped the wetness from his eyes, then slipped out from under his quilt and went around to the tiny space of the next partition.

‘Miss Chapel.’

The crying stopped abruptly, and after a moment she said, ‘Mr Spock, you should be sleeping. You need your rest.’

Her voice was remarkably composed, he thought, but not totally free of tears.

‘Miss Chapel, why are you crying?’ he asked. He rocked as the floor heaved again, holding onto the partition to keep his feet.

There was another long pause, then, ‘This earthquake could kill everyone here. Two people are outside in it. I’ve become friends with most of the people here, and I don’t want to see anyone die.’

‘No one will die,’ Spock tried to reassure her. ‘However did you arrive at that conclusion?’ he asked.

‘Earthquakes kill people, Mr Spock,’ she said, slightly defiantly.

‘Sometimes,’ Spock nodded, and sat down beside her. ‘But you have no power of control over this planet’s plate tectonics. We can only wait here until the tremors are gone. This is the safest place to be.’

‘I know,’ Chapel replied, thinking about how much safer an open plain or an orbiting shuttle would be. She shivered under her blankets, and Spock sat closer and put his arm around her.

‘You are cold?’

‘A little.’ She took the chance of resting her head on his chest, and he didn’t resist, but hugged her back almost as if he were clinging to a life line. ‘Thank you for coming to me.’

‘I have never seen you afraid,’ Spock told her. ‘You will be brave now.’

She shivered, and Spock moved closer, trying to let some of his Vulcan body heat transfer to her.

‘It’s been getting so cold the last few days,’ Chapel remembered, ‘since the thunderstorm that came after our walk. It’s worse for Vulcans, isn’t it?’

‘They have on warm clothes, and the tent is designed to trap heat. If necessary they will huddle together for warmth.’

‘It’s getting colder in here too. It isn’t right. I’m sure it isn’t…’

‘Stay there.’

Spock stood up, but she pulled him back anxiously.

‘Where are you going?’

‘One second.’

He uncurled her fingers from his arm and went to his bed, returning with his quilt bundled in his arms. He wrapped the quilt around them both on the bed, holding the nurse tightly while the house shook again, and the wind and rain increased.

‘The air trapped beneath the quilt will heat up,’ he began to explain. ‘So that our combined body temperatures – ’

‘Yes, I know,’ she broke in. ‘But it doesn’t matter.’

‘No, it doesn’t.’ Spock stroked her loose hair gently, letting the thick mass run over his hands like flowing water. ‘Touch is an interesting way of experiencing form,’ he began in his most scientific tone. ‘It – also helps me remember what it looked like.’ He held back suddenly. ‘I am sorry. I don’t know what – ’

‘I don’t mind,’ she told him. ‘It feels nice.’

‘It feels golden,’ he told her. ‘I can feel slight colour – so there must be some light in here.’

‘It’s early morning. There’s a little.’

‘What do you see through the window? Can you see it from here?’

‘Yes. The trees are black silhouettes, but the sky’s a dark blue-purple. Everything’s pale – ghostly. I can see some stars through the gaps in the clouds. The whole forest’s flashing with tiny white lights. I think it must be fireflies.’

‘There are insects in abundance on this planet which emit phosphorescent light at night, to attract their mates.’

‘It looks like all the trees are strung with fairy lights.’

Spock began to say something about fanciful human whims, then he stopped.

‘I can imagine that,’ he admitted. ‘But I’m sure it is fireflies. On Vulcan there are insects called vhi-c’ha – flamebeetles. The nights are dark, with no moon to give the little light you have on Earth, but flamebeetles are visible as points of light in the sky. One can lie awake through the night, hear the noises of day fade away, then rustlings of nocturnal animals coming out to hunt, or graze in the cool. As night ends bird song begins, the breeze lifts again, blowing the sands. Flowers open to soak in the dew, and their scents are detectable in the air. Then a little light comes in, and brightens until the room is lit with a red glow, and the heat begins again. The dew evaporates in an instant. For a second the sky is mist, then it is gone. But sight is not needed in the night. The dark helps one to think, to concentrate on the sounds and smells. Even the textures. The roughness of the sand. In the day there is so much light. So many colours...’

‘It sounds beautiful,’ she breathed. ‘Mr Spock, can you feel colours all the time?’

‘When light is present. I think Vulcan fingers have some sensitivity to the filtered reflection of light. Most things I touch I can sense some colour – especially bright ones, as in our uniforms. It is a fascinating process of learning, matching the sensation to what I know the colours look like.’

Spock reached out to touch her hand lightly with his fingertips, feeling over the line of the fingers and smooth nails, then the warm, soft palm.

‘I have never studied a hand by touch,’ he told her. ‘Vulcans use our sense of touch more than a human, but we rarely touch the skin of another being.’ He turned the hand over, and ran his fingertips over it carefully. ‘We are two species of humanoid, evolved on planets separated by millions of miles of space, and yet the formation of our hands is almost identical, even to the proportions of fingers. Every cell was programmed to develop in that pattern, and every hand adheres to that pattern, mindlessly.’

‘You’ve been upset, haven’t you?’ Chapel asked him softly. ‘Were you crying?’

He hesitated, then nodded.

‘I want to see,’ Spock said evenly. ‘You know that. It makes it – hard – to keep my emotions in check.’

The nurse hugged him a little closer, trying convey a feeling of reassurance. Spock picked up exactly what she meant through the colours and patterns he saw in her mind. The easy telepathy they had since he created the mindlink made understanding each other a lot simpler. They sat silent for a long while, thinking and sharing their thoughts.

‘You’re very sweet,’ Christine said impulsively, as she felt his fingers weaving a plait in her hair. ‘Sir,’ she added as an afterthought.

‘Sweet?’ Spock repeated coldly, recovering some of his Vulcan composure.

‘All right – chivalrous. There’s lots of places where you feel eyes on you, men watching you. Watching your legs, your body.’

‘I could not watch your legs, even if I so desired,’ Spock reminded her.

‘You wouldn’t even if you wanted to, if you could see. You never have. You’re a perfect gentleman. You always are. You treat me like a person.’

‘You _are_ a person,’ Spock said, puzzling again at the strange ideas and views of the human race. ‘I would never think of you as anything less.’

‘That’s why I like to talk to you. You’re honest and gentle, and you really care about things, underneath your Vulcan exterior.’

‘I really only do what is natural to me,’ Spock protested, trying to protect his Vulcan exterior. ‘Soon you will be insulting me by calling me human.’

‘I wouldn’t dare,’ she smiled. ‘But you are – humane.’

‘I try to be compassionate. Logic must be coupled with a certain consideration for others.’

‘Mr Spock, don’t you ever wish you could freely express your emotions, just sometimes?’

‘The temptation is sometimes there. Often logic is one’s only salvation, in times of turmoil, but there are things that I can never have while I’m controlled by my philosophy of logic. Like the comfort and warmth of another person who trusts in you, and being able to return that comfort and warmth. Having a person who will know to hold you without you having to ask – as you are holding me now. I don’t fully understand it, but I just want the holding to go on and on. It doesn’t feel wrong, as the touch of another would feel wrong.’

‘And you’re tempted now?’

‘Yes,’ he replied quietly. ‘But at this moment I’m not sure what I want, what is right or wrong, whether I am sane or insane. I can only think of a life without light or colour, without seeing the stars and planets that I visit. I – do want your comfort. But I also want to see. There is a great difference between what one wants, and what one can have.’

Christine’s throat was too thick with longing for her to say anything, so she just closed her eyes and nestled her head into his shoulder, and kept hugging him. Then she clutched tighter at him as a stronger shock wave rocked the house.

‘How long will the earthquake last?’

‘I couldn’t say. I have not studied the tectonics of this planet in detail. The tremors are very gentle so far, but continuous – they do not seem dangerous yet.’

‘You’re still cold, aren’t you?’ she murmured sleepily. ‘I can feel you shivering.’

‘The cold is permeating the walls from outside. If we keep close I shall be fine.’

‘Spock?’ Kirk was looking with disbelief over the partition to Chapel’s bed. ‘Is – er – is everything okay?’

Chapel jerked her head away from Spock’s shoulder with a guilty start. She felt the Vulcan stiffening as he heard Kirk’s voice.

‘There is an earthquake, Jim,’ he explained quietly.

‘I know. We had one earlier. I think it’s getting worse.’

‘The evidence does seem to indicate that.’ Spock seemed to realise that he should offer some explanation for his position. ‘Nurse Chapel and I were both cold,’ he said carefully. ‘Sharing our warmth and bedclothes was a sensible remedy.’

‘Of course. D’you know the sun’s almost up?’

Spock shook his head. The question didn’t really seem relevant to him.

‘It doesn’t look right though.’ Kirk wandered over to the window, resting his hands on the sill. ‘It’s white, Spock. Really blue-white – almost like a moon. It’s not giving out proper light at all.’

Spock got down off the bed and felt his way forward to Kirk’s voice, to stand next to him before the glass. ‘Please elaborate, Captain. It may be important.’

‘Like a sign of a planet in its final death throes?’ Kirk asked grimly.

‘Possible. In fact, quite probable, Captain. I have seen what you described in other stars – stars that no longer exist. Can you describe the sun in more detail?’

Kirk turned back to the window. ‘It looks larger than usual, and colder. The whole place is colder. There’s frost outside,’ he said, tracing his finger over the patterns of frozen water on the other side of the glass.

‘It is not the cold season,’ Spock pointed out.

‘No... Spock! Get down!’ Kirk snapped urgently, pulling the Vulcan to the floor.

‘Jim? What is it?’

‘Wind, I think. Stay down.’

He had seen the trees on the horizon beginning to fall flat, snapped off at the roots like brittle twigs. Above them, a silvery grey cloud of dust rolled towards the house with the speed of an express train. It deepened to thick black in the middle, but Kirk could see the whirling rubbish and debris that had been caught up in the unstoppable turmoil.

Everyone in the room woke with a jerk as the house shuddered, first buffeted by the great wind, then struck by the matter pulled up in the vast tornado. Spock huddled down, pressing his back against the wall and wrapping his arms tightly around his knees. Kirk raised his head above the window sill to see outside, but lowered it again hastily as a huge tree smashed into the clear aluminium, buckling it, but not breaking it.

‘Spock, it’s a hurricane like you’ve never seen!’ he told the Vulcan. ‘Everyone stay in their beds,’ he ordered, as he saw McCoy standing up. ‘Keep your heads down! Stay under the blankets.’ He put his hands on the Vulcan’s arms to reassure him. ‘Spock, is there anywhere safer to be in this place?’

‘I have not studied the plans,’ Spock said rather distantly.

‘There’s a cellar under the house.’ Uhura had to shout to be heard over the noise. Her body still felt drugged with sleep, but she was used to being shaken awake on the ship, and having to think fast as soon as her eyes were open. ‘I’m sure the others downstairs will use it.’

Kirk turned round to her voice. ‘In this earthquake? Is it wise to go underground?’

‘Yes, sir – it’s reinforced to be a safe room during geological disturbances.’

‘Then gather some warm clothes, all of you, and we’ll get down there.’ Kirk ran to the door, but was brought up with a jerk when it didn’t budge. ‘Spock,’ he called. ‘Come help.’

‘Where are you, Captain?’

‘By the door – it won’t open. Just come straight ahead of you, and keep away from the window.’

Spock lurched unsteadily across the floor. It pitched under his feet like a boat in a storm and another shake felled him to his knees. He clambered up again, and his searching hand touched Kirk’s. Together they put their shoulders to the door, but it still wouldn’t move.

‘Jim, what are you doing?’ McCoy asked sharply, clambering over to join them. ‘Spock, leave off that door and go sit down – you’re not strong enough. Jim, let me help.’

‘It’s not going to move,’ Kirk told him. ‘We’ll have to weather it out up here.’

‘Jim, this place is a – ’ McCoy pushed Spock flat to the floor under his own body an instant before something whistled through the window like a dart, straight past where their heads had been, embedding itself in the far wall. ‘ – a death trap,’ he finished off.

‘What was it?’ Spock asked. ‘Doctor, will you please get off me?’

Kirk crawled over toward the long green-black object, wondering if it was another tree.

‘A metal girder,’ he saw. ‘The wind just blew it through the window as if it wasn’t there. And there’s a whacking great hole.’

‘Someone is hurt,’ Spock said abruptly. ‘Can you see who it is, Jim?’

‘I can’t hear anything through the storm. Where is it?’

Spock slid forward on his knees until his hands felt a shattered bed screen. ‘Here. Behind here. It is Sulu.’

Kirk ripped away the torn and twisted screen and leapt to the bed.

‘Sulu? Are you all right?’

The girder had planted itself in the wall just above where the still form lay. Kirk was in time to see the man lapse into unconsciousness, and gasped in dismay as he tore away blood soaked blankets. McCoy had already run to fetch his medikit from beside his bed, and he pushed past Kirk to bend over Sulu’s unconscious form.

‘Nurse,’ he snapped. ‘I need you here now!’

‘Yes, sir.’

She made her way through the scene of destruction and joined McCoy, staring at the black tangle of dripping, wet metal around the girder.

‘Can’t see where he’s hurt,’ McCoy grumbled. ‘Too much blood and not enough light.’

Kirk quickly switched on the electric lights, and McCoy gasped as light flooded onto the bloodstained bed.

‘Bones?’ Kirk asked.

‘Something hit his leg,’ McCoy muttered, trying to concentrate on his patient rather than the terrifying noises from outside. Whip-like strands of cable snaked down from the girder, twisting and tangling around Sulu’s leg. ‘Good thing he’s unconscious.’ The leg had been pulled awkwardly back towards the head, snapped easily by the metal cables’ tremendous speed and force.

Chapel began to unwind the thin, cutting wires from Sulu’s leg as McCoy scanned it. She wondered briefly why she was in this job as the released wires sprang back, narrowly missing her face and hands.

‘It’s broken, Captain,’ McCoy told Kirk. ‘He won’t lose it, if only the wire hasn’t severed it through.’

‘Has it?’

‘I can’t tell yet. We’ll move the bed from under this hunk of metal as soon as we can. I don’t want it falling on him. Give us some space and try to block that hole in our window. We don’t want anything else blowing in with the rain. Let’s get this leg straight,’ he said aside to Chapel. ‘Get the bones set together. Where in hell did that thing come from anyway?’

‘Probably from another station in the area,’ Spock reasoned. He was still kneeling on the floor, trying to move the broken bed screen more out of the way. ‘The wind would tear it off easily.’

‘That doesn’t exactly make our situation seem safe,’ McCoy grumbled. ‘If it was the same type of building. Spock, go lie down.’

‘The girder most likely came from outside. Objects like that being torn off our building would hardly affect us,’ Spock argued, then drew back as his finger sliced on a thin piece of torn metal. He lifted his hand to his mouth and tasted blood.

‘Uhura.’ Kirk beckoned his communications officer. ‘Take Spock back to his bed,’ he said quietly. ‘Keep his head down, and use your eyes for him. See to his hand.’ He handed her a small medical box, then turned back to McCoy. ‘Bones, Nurse Chapel, try to keep your heads down.’

Uhura went to Spock and touched his shoulder lightly. ‘Mr Spock – ’ she began.

‘Yes, I heard. I know where my bed is,’ he said as her hand took hold of his arm. Uhura coloured, and let go.

‘I’m sorry, Mr Spock. I’m just never sure of how much... I know you don’t like asking for help.’

‘I understand,’ he said. ‘How is Mr Sulu?’ he asked as he sat down on his bed.

‘He’s unconscious, Mr Spock, and there’s a lot of blood.’

‘Yes, I gathered that, Lieutenant – his leg is almost severed. Does his injury look serious?’

‘It looks bad. There were cables wrapped around his leg, hanging from the girder. Mr Spock, let me see your hands. They’re cut.’

‘I am all right.’

She turned his hands to look at them. ‘They’re bleeding quite a lot – they’re cut all over from that metal.’ She took dressings from the medical box she held and covered the wounds carefully.

‘Thank you,’ Spock said curtly, pulling his hands away again.

‘Mr Spock, I am trying to help you,’ Uhura told him in a low voice, trying to keep anger out of her tone.

‘I know, Lieutenant – thank you. You can help me by describing anything to me that I should know in my capacity of science officer.’

Uhura looked around the room slowly. Her eyes fell on the window, and the turbulent scene outside. The clouds were rushing by like a boiling, speeding river in spate, rain hitting the glass like bullets, but there were occasional rips in the cloud showing the sky above. She relayed every detail of the storm to the Vulcan, then her eyes focused on the sky above, and the sun that appeared at brief intervals through the ragged cloud.

‘Mr Spock, the sun’s getting smaller,’ she said slowly. ‘It’s very slow, but the sun’s shrinking.’

‘That is very curious. A few minutes ago it seemed to be expanding. Maybe it is some kind of distortion of the atmosphere changing your perception rather than a physical occurrence in the sun.’

‘Or maybe – ’ Uhura began.

‘I welcome your input, Lieutenant,’ Spock prompted her.

‘The earthquakes have to be produced by some kind of friction. Maybe the planet is being pulled out of orbit, closer and further away from the sun...’

‘Unlikely – but not impossible.’

‘Sir, do you think the _Enterprise_ will get here in time?’

Spock blinked, calculating in his head. ‘The  _Enterprise_ should be here. It is not running to schedule.’

‘Spock.’ Kirk had come over to the Vulcan’s bed. ‘Repeat that.’

‘The _Enterprise_ is one hour overdue, Captain. If she were in orbit, I’m sure they would have noticed the disturbances, and contacted us.’

‘Jim.’ McCoy looked up from Sulu’s injuries. ‘He’ll be okay. The cuts weren’t too bad once all the blood was cleaned away. The leg’s broken, but not cut through. I’ve bandaged him up, and given him a good dose of painkiller. He’ll mend.’

‘I hope we’re not all dead before then.’

‘Mr Spock.’ Chapel had come on hands and knees over to the Vulcan. ‘Are you coping?’ she asked very quietly.

Spock paused, wondering if he was or not. Somewhere he felt disoriented, nervous – but the hectic situation had pulled a sharp curtain of logic over his emotional problems, until they just felt like vague, insubstantial irritations in the dark.

‘I am fine,’ he told her.

She looked at his face, and believed him.

‘You’re not too cold, are you?’

‘A little. There is quite a considerable amount of wind coming in.’

‘I can’t block that hole,’ Kirk apologised. ‘I can’t see anything that wouldn’t be blown away.’

The window had an almost solid and continuous sheet of water running down it now, and the rain was cascading in through the hole and splashing onto the dormitory floor. Spock felt someone wrapping his thick quilt around him, then heard McCoy snap, ‘Damn!’ and something crashed suddenly.

‘What happened, Captain?’ Spock asked. He hadn’t felt another quake.

‘The light’s gone. The electric lights flickered out and – the sun disappeared, Spock. There’s no sun.’

‘One of the Vulcans has died. One of the ones outside,’ Spock said slowly, shaking his head in slight pain. ‘I felt it in my mind. Her lungs froze. … Now the other is dead. It’s too cold outside to sustain life. Lieutenant Uhura, you may have been right in your theory about the orbit being altered.’

There was another crash, and a noise of someone stumbling. Spock hadn’t realised for a moment that the power cut would alter anything. Then Kirk was touching his arm, both his arms.

‘I’m sorry about the Vulcans, Spock. Do you know who they were?’

‘There were two outside. T’Rani and T’Sai. My friend Suran is downstairs. He must be alive. I have felt no others die.’

‘And all the animals?’

‘We must assume they are dead too, unless they have found somewhere that is still warm. The heat will go from this room soon, Captain.’

There was silence in the room for a moment, then the wind rose again to a high pitched shriek, even more intense, wailing around the house. Spock pressed his hands to the sides of his head, unable to bear the screeches penetrating his skull. Someone grabbed hold of him as there was a rending creak, then the whole house lurched sideways, spilling everyone down towards the back wall with the sliding beds and cases. Spock felt himself falling down and down as the house rocked and tipped again.


	22. Chapter 22

 ‘Sir!’ Chekov whirled round in his chair at the navigation console, disturbing the busy quiet on the _Enterprise_ bridge.

‘Aye, lad?’ Scott asked calmly from the captain’s chair.

‘I vas scanning ahead at the Zozma solar system!’ His eyes were wide with shock. ‘It doesn’t read on my scanners! It’s – gone!’

‘Gone?’ Scott sat forward in his chair, wondering if Chekov was reading his instruments correctly. ‘What d’ye mean, gone?’

‘It just does not register. It vas there a moment ago.’ Chekov’s face was plainly puzzled. He checked his instruments again. ‘There’s – some kind of bubble of magnetism around that area, blocking the scans, making it look like nothing is there! Everything’s going crazy.’

‘Confirmed, sir.’ Lieutenant Hunter looked up from the helm control boards. ‘Sir, the clock’s leaping back and forwards, all the instruments have suddenly gone mad!’

Chekov moved up to Spock’s science console, and peered into the scanner. ‘Deflectors just vent on. Sir, there’s debris coming towards us. Readings are flickering, but I think it’s coming from the Zozma system. Fragments of a destroyed planet, sir.’ He checked again, while everyone listened in tense silence. ‘No organic matter. No bodies. It can’t be Zozma 3. Mass and composition of debris indicates it vas Zozma 5. A dead planet, sir.’

Scott flicked a switch on his chair, setting off the red alert klaxons. ‘Hunter,’ he snapped. ‘Increase speed to warp 8, and as fast after that as you can get her to go. I want to get to that planet system while those people are still alive.’

‘Sir, the instruments won’t function properly, even time is fluctuating,’ he protested. ‘There’s no way of knowing if our course is the right one.’

‘Then use your head, lad,’ Scott said in exasperation. ‘Follow the trail of planet debris back to its origin. Follow the stars if you have to. Surely you can do that?’

‘Yes, sir, but we’ll have to take it slower without instruments. These strange effects get worse as we move closer to that area.’

‘I am well aware of that fact,’ the engineer said, tight lipped. ‘But we are going to get to the captain and his party in time to save them.’

Scott rested back in the large chair, a frown furrowing his forehead, his eyes fixed on the viewscreen. As he stared at the stars, then seemed to ripple, then the ship quivered from bow to stern, then jolted roughly. The lights and noises around died out slowly to dark silence. Another jerk threw Scott forward from his chair, and his head hit the navigation console with a crack.

 

Slowly, Captain Kirk felt a haze clear from his head, and he began to stir on the sloping wall. His first conscious thought was one of pain. Then he was opening his eyes in shock and total darkness, remembering what had happened – how long ago? An hour? Five hours? How long had he been unconscious? The terrible noises of earthquake and storm were still going on. The screeching and howling outside sounded like a blizzard.

He heard a crackle of ice as he moved, and felt the cold. As he tried to stand, a thin layer of ice over his clothes cracked and scattered onto the ground like glass. Water had frozen solid under his feet where the wall met the floor, and there was something pressing on his chest. A bed. Slowly and painfully he heaved it off, feeling ribs in his chest grate where the weight had broken them. The room was darker even than a cloud covered night – then he remembered that the sun had disappeared before the last violent quake.

Light! On the first day he had noticed a glass door in the wall – real glass, not the aluminium that everyone called glass now. There was an emergency box behind that screen, in the wall he was lying on now; the wall that was now becoming the floor. There would be a torch in there. Slowly, he crawled up the slope towards where he thought it to be, his hands leaving smeared trails of blood across the white paint.

His palms slid over a smooth, cold square. The glass. He quickly smashed the panel with his clenched fists, and gasped in pain, shaking fragments of the sharp glass from his skin, puzzling at why he hadn’t thought to wrap his hands with his shirt first. He wondered how much blood he had lost while unconscious. But then his fumbling hands found the case and lifted it out. He balanced it between his knees and throbbing chest and searched through it with his hands until he felt a torch. He switched it on, and brilliant light dazzled him for a few seconds.

He ran the beam over the room, lighting the huddled forms slumped between broken beds and twisted rubbish until it hit Sulu, unconscious at the end of the room. The plain wall was covered in spatters of red and green blood, frozen mud and water. As the light danced across the window that was now the ceiling he saw that thick ice had formed across the torn, gaping hole, blocking it from outside – from the wind and the force of the blizzard. The girder was standing up from the floor like some stunning form of modern art. Kirk reached out to the nearest body and rolled it over. It was McCoy, who gave a faint moan, then woke in a state of dazed confusion.

‘Bones.’ Kirk shook his shoulder gently, leaving a red handprint on the shirt. ‘Are you hurt?’

‘I – I don’t think so.’ McCoy focused slowly on Kirk’s face. ‘You found light. No. I’m not hurt. Some cuts and bruises.’ He peered at the captain’s face. ‘You’re bleeding like a pig, though.’

‘I’m okay for now. Help me see to the others.’

Kirk flashed the light over the room again, and McCoy crawled slowly over to where Uhura lay. His medical kit was still hanging from his shoulder, and he scanned her quickly.

‘Minor blood loss, and her wrist’s broken.’ Carefully he administered painkillers, then lifted the arm and sprayed bandage over it, and straightened out her twisted limbs and body so she lay flat.

‘Bones.’ Kirk was beckoning again. ‘Spock’s bleeding.’

‘Okay.’ McCoy quickly covered Uhura’s cuts, then went to Spock and began the routine again on him. ‘He’s not hurt badly, Jim. Only cuts, broken ribs. Where’s that blood coming from?’

‘It’s his leg.’

McCoy cut away the ripped trouser from Spock’s leg and saw a long gash from his ankle to knee, bleeding heavily. Quickly he stopped the bleeding and dressed it, then eased the shirt up to treat the bruised ribs.

‘God, there’s ice on his face,’ he realised.

He cracked the ice away and tried to get some warmth back into Spock’s skin.

‘They’re all freezing cold, Jim,’ he worried. ‘Get a blanket over Spock or he’ll really freeze. He’s not strong enough to withstand much cold. Damn!’ The doctor tried to grab at the floor as the building slipped a little more, and began to settle with dull creaks, making the wall flat to the ground. ‘Well, at least we have a floor now,’ he said optimistically. ‘Instead of three crooked walls and a sloping ceiling. If you put the mattresses down there, Jim, we can get the others into some kind of communal bed, the closer the better for warmth. Get all the coverings you can. Quilts, blankets, sheets, dressing gowns. Anything.’

Kirk quickly began to shift the mattresses while the doctor checked Sulu and Nurse Chapel, going over their cuts and bruises applying dressings and bandages, then he heaved them over to the makeshift bed.

‘How’s Sulu?’ Kirk asked.

‘All right, except for that leg.’ As he laid a blanket over Sulu the man half opened his eyes. ‘Welcome back. How’re you going?’ McCoy asked gently.

Sulu forced a smile from a face white with pain. ‘Think I’ve cut my leg, sir,’ he murmured, then slid back into unconsciousness.

‘Damn fool,’ McCoy muttered affectionately.

He turned the torch on Spock’s face as the Vulcan woke with a gasp.

‘Spock.’ Kirk put his hand on Spock’s shoulder to stop him moving. ‘Lie still. Are you in pain?’

‘No, not really.’ The Vulcan seemed dazed. ‘I can control it. Are we outside, Captain?’

‘No,’ Kirk said gently. ‘The building fell over. You’re lying on the back wall of the bedroom now.’

‘The temperature has fallen quite dramatically.’

‘If you mean it’s cold, it’s colder outside. The sun’s still dark.’

‘It must still exist, or we’d be dead,’ Spock rationalised. ‘I am not in my bed, am I?’

He felt about himself, feeling a body close beside him. Christine, conscious and lying tightly beside him to share her warmth. It was obvious it was her from what he could sense of her mind.

‘We’ve got you all together under the blankets. We only have body heat now to keep us warm. Spock, what’s wrong?’ he asked, seeing an odd look on the Vulcan’s face.

‘Just – No – nothing, Captain.’

‘What did you think?’ Kirk insisted.

Spock shook his head. ‘It is not possible.’

‘Spock, what is it?’

The Vulcan set his face in a blank. ‘I – thought I saw some light when I woke, but I know that the room is dark.’

‘Spock!’ McCoy leapt to him with the torch in his hand. ‘Spock, there’s a flash light.’

Spock shook his head again. ‘Doctor, there have been too many false hopes. This is one of them. You know that I can feel light, and I have ‘seen’ it many times. Sometimes I wake and see my quarters – until I reach out and knock something over, and realise I am in sickbay, in the dark. This was simply a trick of the mind too.’

‘Can’t you feel light now? At least let me check your eyes?’ The Vulcan didn’t answer, so he shrugged, and flashed the torch across Spock’s face anyway. ‘Did you see anything?’

Spock held his breath for a second before answering. ‘I thought I saw a glimmer of light.’

McCoy repeated the question again and again, varying whether he held the beam before Spock’s face or not. Finally he turned the torch onto a simple heat beam, without light, to tell him if Spock was simply reacting to the warmth of the beam.

‘What about now, Spock?’

‘I – feel light, but I see nothing. I can’t see,’ he said dully.

‘Just wait until I’ve finished before you decide whether you can see or not,’ McCoy said gruffly. He brought the light back and held it still. ‘Is it there now?’

‘Yes, Doctor.’ Spock turned his head as he heard a half sob from Nurse Chapel and her hand came to squeeze his tightly. ‘My answers were incorrect.’

‘No – they were all right,’ McCoy said slowly, hesitant to say out loud whether the light had got through or not. He shone the torch directly in Spock’s eyes again. ‘Your pupils don’t contract. How much light is there?’

‘A glimmer smaller than a pin prick, and fainter. I cannot focus on it, but I can move my eye to follow it.’

McCoy got out his scanner, and stared at the readings. ‘There’s a slight decrease in the number of opaque cells in your left eye. No change in the right yet.’

‘Yet? Then – ’ Spock tried to stop the excitement showing in his voice. ‘Then I may see? Both eyes will – ’

‘There hasn’t been a case of one eye recovering without the other, even if it does take a slightly different length of time for each. Those Vulcan eyes of yours are stronger than we bargained for. They must’ve been fighting back imperceptibly all this time.’

It was so hard to keep his voice steady. ‘H-how long?’

McCoy settled on his haunches and rubbed his head, trying to remember the words of the medical report he had ordered when Spock was blinded. Spock waited, his hand squeezing unconsciously so hard on Chapel’s that tears came to her eyes.

‘I’m not sure,’ the doctor said at last. ‘It won’t happen overnight. That was a bright, focused light beam trying to get into your eyes, and you’re still more than ninety-nine percent blind in your left eye, with no change in the right. You should be able to see sunlight now, if you look directly at the sun – just a prick, like the torch.’

‘I could see no sunlight yesterday.’

‘I know – but you’d have to look directly at the sun, and you wouldn’t have been trying to. If the cell breakdown is constant, it’ll take two or three months before you begin to see sunlight when you just look out a window, dimmer artificial light later – the sphere of vision will increase slowly. In maybe five months it’ll get painful, because your pupils are immobilised, so you’ll wear a visor to filter the light. Later you’ll be able to distinguish blurred colours, your pupils will free up. Perhaps in a year you’ll see as well as you used to, but it could be a lot longer, or maybe a little shorter. It took five years for the first person to recover – from first light to total sight – there were long periods where the recovery just stagnated. But then, you are Vulcan.’

‘Spock.’ Kirk had stayed silent, but now he decided to speak. ‘I hate to say this, but it really doesn’t look as if we’ll live that long.’

‘I am sure the _Enterprise_ will come, Jim,’ Spock said with renewed optimism. ‘I shall live to see. I must.’

‘In the meantime, it’s getting very cold,’ McCoy said seriously. ‘We’d better all get under these blankets and keep ourselves warm. I want everyone closer together. Jim, we better keep the torch off as much as possible – no telling how long we’ll need it.’

‘Wait.’ Kirk dragged out a suitcase from under a mess of rubble. ‘We all have more clothes. Better put as many layers as possible on.’ He flipped open the lid of the case, and rummaged through it. ‘You’ll be pleased to know your lyre’s undamaged, Spock,’ he said to the Vulcan, smiling. ‘These cases are pretty tough.’ He drew out the warmest outfit in there, then packed the instrument back carefully between layers of clothes. ‘Put these on, Spock.’

Soon everyone was lying together, shivering, trying hard to stay warm, piled up with blankets and scattered clothes. Spock reached out to the nurse next to him and found her hand with numb fingers.

<I’m going to see,> he thought to her.

<I know you are,> she smiled. <In five months you’ll be able to walk into a room and see the light. You’ll be able to tell when someone moves in front of you. One day you’ll open your eyes and you’ll see the stars and planets again.>

<And my work,> Spock said vaguely. <I’ll be able to see...>

His eyes closed and he seemed to fall asleep before he could finish the sentence. Christine touched his face with her hand, but her fingers jerked back from the icy touch.

‘Doctor,’ she said in a low, urgent voice. ‘Mr Spock’s unconscious. He’s hypothermic.’

‘Okay,’ McCoy mumbled from the other side of the Vulcan. He stumbled to his feet and found more blankets, half hidden in a corner. ‘Get him wrapped in these. Cover his head and stay close to him.’

Uhura awoke from a numb doze, and stayed awake long enough to shuffle closer to the captain, then she fell back asleep. Kirk wrapped his arms around her, in the same half-awake state, idly watching Chapel wrap Spock in more warm rugs. Then Spock stirred and pressed close to the woman, trying to get some warmth.

‘Doctor,’ he murmured through frozen lips. ‘I don’t know if I can take this cold much longer. Vulcans can’t – ’

‘It won’t be long, Spock,’ McCoy broke in quietly. ‘ _Enterprise_ will come soon, and they’ll have us out of here in no time.’

‘I shall not survive many more hours of this sub-zero weather. Maybe you humans can, accustomed as you are to low temperatures, but I’m suited to a hot planet. We do not have the defences against cold that you have. The Vulcans in the cellar are still alive, I think, but they must be dangerously cold.’

The Vulcan was silent for a moment, but then he gave a sharp intake of breath, and held it. Kirk grabbed for the torch and turned the light on his face quickly.

‘Bones, something’s wrong.’

The Vulcan’s face was a stark white, and his eyes seemed even more vacant than usual. Then he exhaled slowly, and blinked. ‘I’m all right, Jim. I – I am being contacted, Captain.’

‘By who?’ Kirk asked quickly. ‘One of the Vulcans?’

‘No. It is – we are that which you call the alien.’ Spock’s voice had taken on a slightly different tone. ‘We are sorry for the destruction we have caused on this planet.’

‘Sorry!’ Kirk shook the Vulcan by the shoulders. ‘You’ve killed almost all life on the planet!’

‘Jim.’ McCoy pulled him back roughly. ‘It’s still Spock. Don’t hurt him.’

‘Yes. We are Spock too,’ Spock said. ‘Both here, both one. The animals are safe. Most of them. We lured them into protective domes at certain points around this small world. They have warmth, food, light. They are protected from the effects. You could not be lured in this way. We did not know you were still upon the surface of the ball.’

‘Can’t you put one of these force fields around us?’ McCoy questioned him.

‘Energy is going. We are exhausting every supply. Our life support is low. There is no more for another protection. We must save natives of this planet first. There are more of you on other places.’

‘But why are you doing this to the planet?’ Kirk asked emotionally, turning his palms to the ceiling.

‘We are studying your universe. Now we are told to return to home world. Your escape from our research vessel caused elements of each dimension to fuse. Separation is difficult. We cannot pull these places apart without the planet being destroyed. Therefore we must destroy our – myself. Orders are to return; planet is expendable, but – ’ Spock shook his head. ‘They have not seen planet. We have. Planet is too precious for destruction. Knowledge was returned. The leaders know all. We will destroy ourselves and that which you call the cube.’

‘Hang on a moment,’ said McCoy, shaking his head. ‘We’re not asking you to kill yourself.’

‘It must be done.’ Spock blinked, coming out of the trance. ‘I am alone now,’ he whispered. ‘She will tell the Vulcans, underneath us, then she will destroy herself. I could not persuade her of any other way.’

‘She’s going to blow up her ship?’ Kirk asked incredulously.

Spock thought deeply for a moment, then he said, ‘Captain, I think she was the ship – at least, I think the cube we were in was her, or part of her. It is hard to understand the complexity of such an alien form of life.’

 

In the middle of a sluggishly moving, half frozen sea, there was a sudden, colossal explosion. A white column of ice and water shot forty metres into the air, then spattered back onto and into the semi-solid ocean. With it came half of the alien’s being. Fragments of sharp and liquid silver, computers and machines, and a strange thick pink substance fell back to the ice like raining honey. On the other side – in the other dimension – the other half of the matter was drifting silently into cold, empty space.


	23. Chapter 23

Slowly the planet stopped its terrible convulsions, and then there was silence. The clouds began to clear from the black sky and light returned, showing the level of destruction on the planet surface. The ground resembled a battlefield of old Earth, covered in pits and scars, felled trees and thick mud. Only on the empty prairie did the scene look less frightening, with only a few tumbled rocks and trees blown from the forest scattered over the land. The grass had been blown flat to the ground, but was already beginning to spring up again as the ice melted. Slowly and cautiously the animals returned to their devastated homes, to start to rebuild with the little that was left.

 

The six in the bedroom of the science station felt the shock waves of the explosion, then the gradual subsidence to total quiet. For a minute no one moved, each one thinking about the fate of the alien, the planet, and themselves. Then Kirk returned to life, seeing the thick crust of ice above glowing red-yellow.

‘Sun,’ he breathed softly.

McCoy gazed up at the wonderful warm colour for a moment, transfixed, until a call from Chapel snapped him out of it.

‘What is it?’

‘Mr Spock. He’s getting colder, despite all the coverings.’

Spock’s skin was tinged with a horrible grey colour, his breathing slowing almost to the point of stopping altogether.

‘What’s making him do that?’ Kirk asked in horror. ‘What’s wrong with him, Bones?’

‘It’s the Vulcan equivalent of turning blue with cold,’ McCoy said grimly. ‘I should have been watching him. Let’s hope the sun heats stuff up around here, and fast.’

He put his hands on Spock’s face, shaking him back to consciousness. He moaned faintly, then began to slip back into a numb state of hibernation.

‘Spock, get up!’ McCoy snapped.

The Vulcan tried to turn his numb body away, feeling pain like a thousand red-hot needles wherever he was touched. All his frozen mind was telling him was to ignore the outside world and sleep.

‘Spock! Get up!’ the doctor ordered again. ‘Jim, help me get him on his feet,’ he said urgently. ‘We can’t let him fall asleep or he’ll die.’

They heaved the limp body up and forced the Vulcan to begin stumbling around the cluttered floor.

‘Come on. Spock, wake up! Now!’ McCoy slapped Spock’s face hard again and again until colour flooded back into his cheeks. As the Vulcan became more awake he started to help himself, beating his arms against his chest.

‘Are you better now?’ McCoy asked.

Spock nodded stiffly. ‘Warmer, thank you, Doctor.’ He put a hand to his cheek. ‘Next time would you refrain from striking me quite so hard?’

‘I had to hit you, you ungrateful, greenblooded, pointy eared – you Vulcan!’ he finished in exasperation.

‘If that was an attempt at an insult it was ineffective,’ Spock said smoothly. ‘I am a Vulcan and I do have green coloured blood and well-shaped ears. I was not, however, ungrateful for my life being saved.’

‘Hmm,’ McCoy muttered. ‘Look, the sun’s back, but it’s not much warmer yet. Either get back under those blankets before you freeze again, or walk around a little more, but don’t just stand there losing more heat.’

Spock raised an eyebrow, then turned and got back under the pile of covers. As Kirk began to sit back down, he groaned, and pressed a hand to his side.

‘Jim?’ McCoy scanned him quickly. ‘Broken ribs. Trust you not to tell me. You’re getting worse than Spock.’

‘It didn’t feel that bad,’ Kirk shrugged. ‘I thought it could wait.’

‘Well I don’t.’ He pushed Kirk flat onto the mattress and applied the spray bandage. ‘Lie still. It should be warm enough under the blankets for you to get some sleep. I’ll keep an eye on everyone else.’

 

Scott sat up slowly and unsteadily in total darkness, feeling his brain pounding against his skull. For a panicking moment he wondered if he had gone blind like Spock, then he remembered the lights going out and the terrible crash as if the  _Enterprise_ had been driven into a planet. There was a pain in his ankle that ached to his toes and up to his knee. He struggled to his knees, finding the arm of his chair to help himself, and slid gratefully into the seat.

‘Reserve power for lights,’ he snapped, waiting unhopefully for a response. None came. ‘Engine room,’ Scott said through the intercom. ‘Is anyone alive down there?’

‘Yes, sir,’ came a weak voice. ‘Everyone else is out cold though, all over the ship. No one would answer the intercom. Maybe some of them are awake now. I’ve been trying to keep the ship on even keel.’

‘Good work, lass,’ Scott said enthusiastically. He tried to remember the young woman’s name. O’Neill. That was it. He’d have to recommend her to the captain for promotion. If the captain was still alive, he thought regretfully. ‘D’ye know how long we’ve been like this?’

‘We’ve been drifting for an hour towards the Zozma system, sir. We’re still on course.’

‘Good. Will ye get me reserve power for the bridge? We’re in the dark up here.’

‘Aye, aye, sir.’

Scott heard switches being flipped, then dim light flooded the bridge. The room gave a good impression of having been recently ravaged by Klingons. The floor was littered with chairs on their backs with half unconscious bodies sprawled over and under them.

‘When the others come round get the fit ones back to their posts and the casualties to sickbay,’ Scott ordered the ensign in the engine rooms. ‘You’re doing a fine job down there, lass,’ he said encouragingly. ‘Scott out.’

Next, Scott contacted sickbay, and was pleased to find at least some of the doctors and nurses unhurt and treating the first of the casualties. He crawled from his chair, limping on his wrenched ankle. He saw Chekov slumped over his navigation console and was lifting him gently upright as a nurse appeared on the bridge.

‘Over here,’ Scott beckoned to the man. ‘He’s got a nasty cut on his forehead.’

‘Yes, sir.’ He scanned Chekov quickly, applied wound sealer, then put a dressing on his head. ‘He may have a concussion, sir. He should come down to sickbay for a thorough check-up.’

The nurse went quietly around the bridge, to discover no one was hurt other than from minor cuts and bruises. Chekov turned round too fast in his chair and pressed a hand to his head.

‘Sir,’ he said weakly, trying to stop himself feeling sick. ‘Instruments back to normal. The disturbance seems to have settled down.’

‘Then lay in a course for Zozma 3, and take that head to the sickbay,’ Scott told him. ‘I’ll find a replacement.’

‘But, sir,’ Chekov protested.

‘Go, laddie. We canna be having a navigator with concussion on the bridge. That’s what the captain would tell you.’

‘Aye, sir,’ Chekov agreed sadly, and on plotting the course he went unsteadily to the elevator.

 

Spock found himself drifting up out of a sleep he didn’t know he had entered. He moved slightly, and stretched, at first thinking he was on the  _Enterprise_ , in his warm bed in sickbay. No. He shook himself again. This was the warmth of bodies close to him. He could hear their slow breathing as they slept. He had fallen asleep so cold. Someone was very close to him. Christine. It smelt like her, and felt like her. Her arms were around his body, keeping him warm as she slept. In this half-sleep he moved closer, instinctively wanting the comfort of her by him. His face was in the curve of her neck, smelling the soft, clean hair. He stroked his fingers down it, imagining he could see it. As his lips touched her skin she came half awake.

‘What?’

‘I’m sorry,’ Spock murmured, still too asleep and numbed from the cold for his Vulcan disciplines to take over. ‘I didn’t mean to – ’

‘It’s okay,’ she muttered quietly. ‘S’nice.’

‘Mmm.’

His fingers stroked carefully over her face, unsure at the tenderness he felt he had to use. They found her hand, and Chapel shivered as a sudden surge of feelings from Spock’s mind penetrated hers, travelling up through the nerves of her arm. His hand came back to her face, and the contact became stronger. Her face turned to his with closed eyes, and she felt a soft warmth as he kissed her lips. Then he snapped awake as something clattered, like stone falling onto metal. His Vulcan controls came into full force, and he froze, the teasing mind probes suddenly withdrawing.

‘I’m sorry, Christine,’ he whispered. He gently pulled her hand from his face. ‘I can’t. It isn’t the time.’ He shook his head, then half smiled. ‘I did want to. There is no logic in denying that.’

‘Mmm?’ The noise came from the other side of him.

Spock turned over to find Kirk beside him. ‘I hear movement. Something is outside,’ he said quietly.

‘Huh?’ Kirk opened his eyes sleepily and looked at the window above him, hearing a continuous soft drip, drip, drip. ‘Spock!’ he exclaimed. ‘The ice is melting!’

‘I feel the warmth,’ Spock said. ‘But I do hear something.’

‘I know. I believe you.’ Kirk listened to the scraping noise, then he saw an anxious Vulcan face peering through the hole in the window. ‘Suran! Spock, it’s Suran. You’re alive!’ he exclaimed.

‘Obviously.’ The disembodied head disappeared, then the rest of the Vulcan became visible as he climbed up onto the clear aluminium. ‘Are you all well?’

‘Some injuries. Sulu has a broken leg. He’s been out cold through most of this. And I don’t think any of us would say no to a nice log fire. What about the rest of you?’

‘We are all relatively unharmed. Some have broken bones. All are suffering from cold or hypothermia. T’Raen and T’Sai were outside...’

Kirk lowered his eyes for a moment. ‘Spock told us. He felt them die. I’m sorry.’

‘Your sympathies are appreciated,’ Suran said solemnly. ‘Thank you. But we must concentrate on the immediate problem. We should concern ourselves with those still alive. Your ship should be arriving here today.’

‘It’s overdue,’ Kirk said grimly.

Suran looked around at the buckling walls and general destruction. ‘This structure may not be safe. We must discover a means of retrieving you from the room.’

‘We’ll have to climb through the hole.’

Suran fingered the jagged edges of the hole. ‘Spock would find that difficult. And Mr Sulu seems to be unconscious.’

‘Yes.’ Kirk rubbed a thumb over his lips, considering the problem. ‘Can you make the hole bigger? We can lift him out on a stretcher.’

‘We can do better than that, sir,’ came a new voice, invisible behind Suran. ‘We can beam you out.’

‘Scotty!’ Kirk leapt out of the blankets and stared up at the hole. ‘Is that you?’

‘Aye. I’m sorry we’re overdue, Captain, but we had a few wee problems. I just beamed down now, and we’re up to our eyeballs in snow – literally.’

‘What’s happening, Jim?’ McCoy was sitting up out of the blankets. ‘Scotty!’ he exclaimed, as the engineer came to join Suran. Then his smile turned to a frown. ‘Where the devil have you been? We all almost froze to death.’

‘The same thing that ravaged this planet had a good go at the _Enterprise_ ,’ Scott said apologetically. ‘We had to navigate without instruments for a while, then something hit us hard.’

‘You are here now,’ Spock said, standing up. He tilted his head back, turning his face towards Scott’s voice. ‘And we are all thankful.’

‘He’s going to see,’ McCoy said with a grin, nodding at Spock.

Scott’s face lit up. ‘Aye, well, I knew you’d be fine, Mr Spock,’ he said gently. ‘We’d better get you beamed out so we can tell everyone.’

‘Oh.’ Suran’s face disappeared for a moment, then returned. ‘Spock. There is someone here who is anxious to see you. He found his way into the cellar with us.’

‘Indeed?’ Spock barely had time to raise an eyebrow before something fell on him, toppling him to the ground and knocking the breath out of him. He was about to fight it off when he heard a familiar chirping sound and his hands felt the soft fur of a live animal on his chest. ‘The junuah? He is alive?’

‘Correct.’

Scott smiled. ‘I didna know you had such a way with wee furry bears, Mr Spock.’

‘This is a junuah, not a bear,’ Spock said rather stiffly, stroking the fur.

‘I canna see the difference,’ Scott shrugged. ‘Our people are getting the Vulcans beamed up, sir,’ he told Kirk. He dropped a communicator down, and it landed with a slap in the captain’s palm. ‘We’ll get your belongings out of this mess later. Would ye care to do the honours, Cap’n?’

Kirk flipped open the communicator with a wide smile, and said the words with relish. ‘Kirk to  _Enterprise_ . Eight to beam up.’


	24. Chapter 24

Kirk settled back in his old, familiar chair on the bridge with some relief. It was good to be home, with Bones in the corner of his left eye, and Spock in his right. He twisted his body a little to see his first officer properly. Still a little pale and run down, three months after the  _Italia_ accident, one hand resting lightly on the back of Kirk’s chair, the other holding the slim cane that seemed to be part of him now.

‘Captain?’ The Vulcan had felt the slight shaking of the chair, and knew Kirk was looking up at him.

‘Nothing. It’s nice to see you back up here, that’s all.’

‘I’ll second that.’ McCoy grinned benevolently at Spock, at peace with him for once, and secretly proud of him.

‘It is good to be here, Captain,’ Spock said honestly, his hand running slowly over the firmness of the chair. ‘I can recognise the smell and the feel of the bridge. It is vastly different to the sickbay.’

‘You seem very fixed on that viewscreen,’ Kirk laughed, then caught himself, and looked up again at the blank eyes. ‘Sorry. I’m not used to it even yet.’

‘You were correct, Captain. I can see some small quantity of light there, in my left eye. Fainter even than the torch on Delta Zozma 3, but it is light, Jim.’

Kirk focused on the nearest star, a lot larger than the rest, and creeping nearer, as the  _Enterprise_ lazed along at warp 3. ‘It’s your star, Spock. Vulcan.’

‘I wasn’t aware that we were headed for my home planet, Captain.’

‘Call it a special treat. I’m not sure whether your father might have swung the orders,’ he said with a grin. ‘We have to pick up some cargo – the sort that’s usually left for freight ships.’

‘I am sure my father would not have used his position to influence our mission,’ Spock said stiffly, although he had a silent feeling that Kirk might be right.

‘Well, we’ll be there a couple of hours anyway, Spock. Time enough for you to beam down and get in some well-earned relaxation.’

Kirk pressed a button to zoom in on the star a little more. Spock blinked slightly, and gasped as it filled almost the whole screen.

‘Careful, Jim,’ McCoy cautioned him. ‘His eyes aren’t used to that much light, even if it is only a pinprick.’

‘Not even that, Doctor,’ Spock corrected him. ‘But very welcome, if a little painful.’

‘Well, just don’t stare at it – your eyes are vulnerable at the moment.’

Spock reluctantly moved his eyes from the screen, and stepped up to his station on the upper bridge, followed closely by McCoy.

‘Who is in my chair?’ Spock asked, as he approached the console.

‘Just me,’ Chapel told him, moving out of his way. ‘You asked me to help you retrain yourself to your console, sir. I thought I should familiarise myself with it.’

‘Yes. Of course.’ Spock reached out for the chair and sat down. A button squawked as he placed his hands on the console, and the boards flashed an assortment of coloured lights and a symphony of sound at him. McCoy quickly switched off the display screens above his head, with a low, muttered curse.

‘Doctor, do not be absurd,’ Spock said reasonably. ‘If I was so sensitive as to break down at every reference to sight I would be dead by now. You seem to be more sensitive than I am.’

He brushed his hands lightly over the controls, exploring the conversions that Scotty had made. Then he rested his palms on the surface, and closed his eyes for a few moments, looking as if he were communing through his fingertips with the computer from which he had been so long absent.

‘I expect I shall find use in the visual aspects of my station before the eleven months are up,’ he said, opening his eyes again.

‘You know, Jim,’ McCoy said as Kirk came up to join them. ‘If we step on the gas, Spock can have more than a few hours on Vulcan. I know you’ll be busy, Jim, but I’m sure someone’ll spare a day to take him down and keep an eye on him.’

He glanced silently at Chapel, and Kirk nodded with a grin.

‘I shall only have to catch a shuttle in the city and travel directly to my parents’ home. I shall go alone,’ Spock said firmly. ‘And I do not think Mr Scott will be pleased if our speed is increased.’

‘I’m sure he’ll make an exception, Spock,’ Kirk told him.

‘I’ve never understood that saying, step on the gas,’ McCoy mused. ‘I guess it’d be centuries old.’

‘I believe it originated in twentieth century America,’ Spock offered immediately. ‘Gas, meaning gasoline, or petrol, a mixture of light volatile hydrocarbons obtained, then, by fractional distillation or cracking of petroleum. It was widely used for the propulsion of motor cars and other such vehicles. It was a particularly noxious substance when burnt, and contributed greatly to the pollution of your planet, until its use was banned in the, in my opinion, much belated Worldwide Environmental-Improvement Acts of 2054.’

McCoy rolled his eyes to the ceiling. ‘He’s back to his old self, Jim,’ he muttered. ‘As if Vulcans never had pollution.’

‘Compared to the pollution on Earth, Doctor, we never did. We found it illogical to destroy that very thing which kept us alive.’

‘What about the saying?’ Kirk interrupted.

‘Ah, yes. It meant to depress the accelerator pedal of a motor car, in order to increase its velocity.’

‘Is that all?’ McCoy snorted. ‘Ask a Vulcan one simple question, and he reads you the dictionary. If we’re going to be on Vulcan soon, Jim, I better take Spock down to sickbay now. He still needs regular rests and monitoring.’

‘I feel perfectly strong,’ Spock protested.

‘Well, you don’t look it,’ McCoy said flatly. ‘You’re having a sleep whether you like it or not – in sickbay, where I can record your readings.’

‘Wait.’ Kirk touched the Vulcan’s shoulder. ‘Would you like to give the orders, Mr Spock, before you’re forced back onto your sick bed?’

‘Certainly, sir.’ Spock got to his feet and found the awkward path down to the helmsman’s chair. ‘Mr Sulu. Ahead to Vulcan. Warp factor 6.’

‘Aye, aye, sir,’ the helmsman smiled, and Spock heard the satisfying hum of the ship being brought up to a faster warp speed.

Chapel came meet Spock at the elevator doors, and followed him inside. Kirk, still on the bridge, turned to McCoy.

‘You know matchmaking won’t work with Spock,’ he smiled. ‘It’ll take more than that.’

‘Not much more. Why should he ask her to help him adjust to his console? She’s a nurse, not a science officer.’

‘She’s been helping him since he went blind. He’s used to her teaching him. It’s nothing to do with romance.’

‘I’ve never seen him so green in the ears as when he found her in his chair. We’ll see, won’t we?’ McCoy answered smugly. ‘There’s more to that Vulcan than meets the eye.’

 

Chapel stopped at the back of the lift and twisted the handle in the wall. ‘Deck 7,’ she ordered, and the lift shot rapidly downwards.

‘I wish they would not do that so abruptly,’ Spock complained mildly as the floor seemed to fall from under his feet. ‘It upsets my equilibrium.’

‘It’ll be better when you’re used to it. What about Zozma’s equilibrium, Mr Spock? There was a communiqué this morning, wasn’t there? What’s going to happen?’

‘A team has been sent to help rehabilitate the animals and ensure that they continue to thrive. The Vulcan team will remain to finish their studies. Access to the world is to be limited, to allow natural evolution to take place. I’d have liked to observe the planetary recovery – and the development of the jical. They are a fascinating species – as are the junuahs.’

‘Yes,’ Christine agreed grimly. ‘Your specimen of which is at this moment wreaking havoc in sickbay, instead of being confined safely in a cage in the alien organism department, or in your quarters. If Dr McCoy finds out – ’

‘I heard Dr McCoy say he would be on the bridge for quite some time. And Kyh-tjeni is well behaved. Taking care of an animal will prepare me for the care of a guide-dog.’

‘Kite – ki?’ She struggled to pronounce the word. ‘You’ve given him a name?’

‘It is logical to call him by some name, other than always, the animal. It means red bear.’

‘Can I just call him Kyti?’ she laughed.

‘That means a sudden disaster, but as you wish.’

‘It’s accurate enough.’

‘As I was saying, he is quite docile. He would not do any dam – age.’

He trailed off at a cry of dismay from Chapel. They had left the lift, and the door to sickbay had whooshed open in front of them. Spock could hear something running races with itself around the floor, then there was a scuffle, and Chapel dropped a small, warm and wriggling creature into his arms.

‘It’s a good thing you can’t see,’ she told him grimly. ‘It looks like a war zone. I think he was trying to make a nest.’

Spock began to walk forward, and almost tripped over something clinging and soft. Chapel quickly guided him to the haven of a bed, saying, ‘Keep your feet up off the floor.’ She shook her head, gazing despairingly at the mess of blankets, pillows and equipment on the floor, then bent down and began wearily to pick things up.

‘If I can help – ’ Spock began.

She glanced around at him, then shrugged, dumping a load of medical gadgets on the bed beside him. ‘You can put some of this equipment back on the surface by the door.’

She started out of the door with a bundle of dirty sheets, then dropped them back on the floor and sat down with a sigh, watching with gladness as she saw the Vulcan carefully lining up the instruments on the shelf, then picking up the sheets she had dropped and putting them down a laundry shoot.

‘So you’re going to get a guide-dog?’ she asked, remembering Spock was leaving for a training facility on Earth in a few weeks. It sometimes seemed odd that he was still taking the training even though his sight was returning.

Spock nodded. ‘Rehabilitation will include the use of a dog. I have permission to keep such an animal on the ship, provided it spends a certain quota of time on planet surfaces. Of course, that is where it will be needed most.’

‘You’ll be all right, won’t you, Mr Spock?’ she asked.

He paused, working out her meaning, then nodded. ‘Yes, I shall be. Eleven months is a very small percentage of my life. It will be an interesting year.’

 


End file.
